


Some Kind of Proof

by Sandrene09



Series: Fanfiction Day 2015 [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrene09/pseuds/Sandrene09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Anthony and Kalel get married on a chilly Saturday afternoon.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>This is how it happens.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind of Proof

**Author's Note:**

> For Joana, who I absolutely adore. This has a nonlinear storyline, so sorry about that. I hope you guys will be able to follow and understand the layout of the fic, though. Also, about halfway through writing the fic, I realized that this is basically my previous fic, “Everything You Are and Cannot Be”, but is more detailed. (Insert ugly laughter here.) Sorry about that, as well. This was written for Fanfiction Day 2015.

Anthony and Kalel get married on a chilly Saturday afternoon.

This is how it happens.

-.-.-.-

“Congratulations.”

Anthony looks up from his laptop to find Ian entering his apartment with a bottle of champagne in his hand. Ian has that smile on his face, the one that’s curled up at the edges and only slightly expresses just how happy and proud he is of the two of them and of how far they’ve come.

He knows Ian’s smiles like the back of his hand, now. He knows Ian’s minute expressions and the various combinations of them, knows how to read Ian like a book that he’s owned since he was a child.

“Thanks,” he replies, watching as Ian walks towards the kitchen and opens the cabinet where he knows the fancy glasses are stored. He looks back to his laptop where the video of his proposal to Kalel is paused. “Did you really fly here just to congratulate me?”

“Nah. I drove.”

Anthony blinks, then looks up. Ian is walking around the table with two champagne glasses in one hand and the bottle of champagne in another. There’s a calm expression on Ian’s face instead of a joking grin and a pair of eyes shining with delight. He’s telling Anthony the truth.

Still, he asks, “are you kidding me?”

Ian exhales sharply, a small smile curling his lips into something beautiful. “No,” he says, disbelief in his voice. He moves the chair back with a slight screeching noise, putting the glasses and the bottle on the table before plopping down on the chair opposite Anthony. “All the flights were full.” He pauses, then rethinks his word choice. “Well, the cheap flights were full. All the others were too expensive.”

“You didn’t bring Melanie with you?” Anthony asks, eyebrows furrowed as he watches Ian open the champagne bottle with a plop. Absently, he moves his Macbook to the side.

Ian shakes his head. “She said Kalel probably wouldn’t appreciate her presence or something.” He stops when the champagne flute is about halfway full and looks up. “She does offer her congratulations, though. Also, this is a pretty spontaneous thing, so she wasn’t really prepared.”

It’s not surprising that this isn’t something Ian planned. Once, when they were teenagers, Anthony had been driving them both to school when Ian just turned to him and said, “hey, Halo’s coming out today. Wanna skip school and buy the game?”

Watching Ian pour champagne in the other flute, Anthony allows a small fond smile to twist his lips. For all that they’re older and more mature now, there’s still a hint of the old Ian in this one, and it makes Anthony wonder if there’s still a little bit of old him in present him, too.

“Hey,” Ian says, offering him a champagne flute.

Anthony smiles and wordlessly takes the glass, trying to think about whether the flute is his or Kalel’s. It’s probably Kalel’s—the number of arguably fancy things he owns are way fewer than hers.

The champagne is light yellow under the generous lighting of his kitchen. Glancing at it and noting the distinct lack of bubbles, it looks a bit like urine.

“To your future marriage,” Ian offers, raising his own champagne flute.

“And to yours,” Anthony says, because Ian and Melanie have been together for almost five years, and surely, they’ll be going down this path too.

Ian offers him a shaky smile. It might be a trick of the light, or maybe it’s the jetlag still affecting him a day after his arrival, but Anthony sees Ian look almost _unsure_ for a few seconds, disturbing because of the fact that Ian almost never looks unsure. He forgets about it, though, when Ian clinks his champagne flute against Anthony’s and says, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” Anthony responds, and drinks the contents of his champagne flute in a single gulp, wincing at the taste. Instead of a delightful mix of sweetness, dryness, and a little bit of sourness, it tastes like urine mixed with apple cider vinegar. The bubbles that should be tickling his taste buds are nonexistent, and the drink just generally leaves him feeling dirty and used.

Feeling the overwhelming urge to gag, Anthony swallows back bile and puts the champagne flute back on the table. “Fuck. That tastes like shit. Worse, even. You couldn’t have bought better champagne?”

Ian brings one fist to his mouth. His eyes are screwed shut and regret is written clearly across his features. “Spontaneous, remember?” he reminds Anthony, opening his eyes and revealing watery blue orbs. Anthony would be sorry for him, except he’s the one who bought the champagne in the first place. “Fuck, okay, that was horrible,” Ian says, pushing the chair back and standing up. “Do you have any orange juice?”

Anthony takes one last glance at the champagne bottle before standing up and joining Ian at his refrigerator. “How much was that?” he asks, reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing Kalel’s surprisingly delicious almond milk.

“I don’t know,” Ian admits, a jug of orange juice in hand. “Like, five bucks?”

Five bucks. Anthony shakes his head before taking another swig of the milk straight out of the carton. No wonder it tasted worse than pee.

-.-.-.-

Anthony straightens his jacket with one hard tug, ignoring the way his hands are shaking slightly. The Anthony in the mirror before him looks, for all intents and purposes, calm and collected—a gentleman, he thinks, who’s about to marry the love of his life.

It’s a little disconcerting to know that he’s _that_ guy. He feels anything _but_ calm, his heart a hyperactive mess in his chest and his mind a sports car running eighty miles per hour on a downward twisting mountain road. Doubts he’s been having about this entire thing begin to resurface, and he inhales sharply, trying to prevent a panic attack from occurring _now_ , mere minutes before he has to walk down the aisle with his mother.

Christ. He’s heard about cold feet and anxiety running high before important events like weddings, but he never thought it would be as bad as this. He feels like walking out of this church and straight to the airport, never mind the fact that he’s wearing an expensive tux and that he looks like an obvious runaway groom.

He hopes Kalel is having a way better time than him. He doesn’t think he’ll actually be able to handle it if Kalel doesn’t show up at the altar, especially since three-fourths of the guest list are people she knows.

Ignoring the way his heart is beating double-time in his chest in an entirely _not_ good way, Anthony walks away from the mirror and sits down on the beige couch, clasping his hands and bowing his head. How many grooms had sat down on this same couch before him? How many were still married to their brides today?

Trying to regulate his breathing, he doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening or the quiet footsteps nearing him. He does, however, notice the pair of black shoes before him, and he looks up, not bothering to school his expression into something calmer, because he and Ian are way past that.

They’ve been best friends for more than a decade. There’s no point in pretending he feels fine.

Ian is gorgeous. This is a fact that he notices even before he sees the worry in Ian’s eyes. He’s sharply dressed in a crisp white shirt and a French blue tie, a color Anthony didn’t even know was called anything other than _“blue_ ”. He has his gray suit jacket folded over one arm, glinting silver under the mellow artificial light.

He doesn’t know what it is, but for one brief wisp of time, he imagines it’s Ian he’s getting married to, imagines that Ian’s in this room, sneaking, because their friends believe strongly in the groom not seeing the other groom before the wedding, but then Ian moves, and then the thought is pushed away from the forefront of his mind in favor of addressing the worry in Ian’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” he lies.

“You’re not,” Ian says, shaking his head and sitting beside Anthony.

“No I’m not,” he agrees, then lets his head fall down again. He looks at the space between his feet, the dark blue carpet flat from the weight of the various grooms who have been here before, and tries not to think about the motif Kalel had picked for the wedding—French blue and muted gold, because she had always wanted a vintage-themed wedding, whatever the hell that means. “This is ridiculous. I’m getting married in a few minutes. It’s a little too late for freaking out,” he mumbles to his feet, not really having the strength to look Ian in the eye and admit this to his face.

“I don’t think it’s too late,” Ian says, voice calm. “Hell, I’ll drive you if you want. I’m not staying here if you’re not here. That would just be awkward.”

Anthony smiles at the thought. He and Ian running away together. Pretty spontaneous, that.

He looks up and meets Ian’s eyes, grateful. “Thank you,” he says, voice soft and sincere. He thinks back to every other moment when Ian calmed him down or made him feel better with just a few words, and he knows that his thank you isn’t just for this one specific time, rather, it’s for all those other moments as well, the ones he forgot to be thankful about. Ian is an endless fountain of kindness and support, and Anthony thinks it’s only fitting that he’s thanking Ian now, before he gets married to Kalel, the woman who will have to support him from now on and who he will support in return.

It’s kind of an end of an era, he thinks.

He tries not to be emotional about the entire thing.

“No problem,” Ian responds, smiling. He’s already waving away Anthony’s thanks, and it makes him wonder if Ian understood that Anthony’s thanking him for _everything_ , for not being sick of Anthony’s sorry ass, for being the constant Anthony never knew he needed.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Anthony asks, leaning back against the back of the couch.

Ian looks away for a moment, suddenly evasive. “It’s nothing,” he reassures Anthony when he looks back at him, shaking his head. “Although your mom did kind of ask me to go and see if you were okay.”

Anthony nods. “Have you seen Kalel?”

Ian laughs, but it sounds a bit strained. “What, do you want me to describe to you what she looks like? I have to be honest with you—I’m shit at fashion and all that crap.”

Anthony allows one corner of his lips to curl up in a half-smile. “Asshole,” he says, the word lacking heat behind it because of how _fond_ he sounds. “I meant, how is she doing? Is she freaking out too?”

Shaking his head, Ian leans forward and places his arms across his legs, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I haven’t seen her.”

It’s funny, Anthony thinks, how life turned out this way. Anthony had always sort of figured that Ian would be the first one out of the two of them to get married, what with his relationship with Melanie being what it was. Ian had never been the type to make relationships last—granted, he had only had two girlfriends before, including Melanie, but still—and so it had been surprising when he and Melanie hit the three-year mark without looking like they were getting tired of each other.

Anthony, on his part, remembers being jealous of what Ian and Melanie had. He had had more relationships than Ian, but none really lasted as long as Ian’s relationship with Melanie, and really, everyone knows that relationships are a case of quality over quantity.

Don’t get him wrong—he’s not treating relationships like some kind of competition. It’s just that, well, Anthony had always been puzzled by love and all that it entailed. If Ian and Melanie lasted that long, obviously it was because they liked each other and fit well together, so why didn’t they ever decide to get married?

Anthony tries to imagine it. What if Ian was the groom in this situation and he was the best man?

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t quite know why, but it does. Instead of pondering over it though, he chews on his lip and asks, hesitantly, “why didn’t you ask Melanie to marry you?”

It’s a risky question. For all that he and Ian are close, they don’t really make a habit of talking about emotions and feelings, both of them abiding by the unspoken rule of bros not talking to each other about relationships and relationship troubles. Still, he looks at Ian expectantly, hoping that Ian will choose to answer his question so that he could make some sense out of the thoughts running through his head.

Ian thinks about his answer for a while. Anthony knows he is, because Ian’s eyes go a little unfocused, and for a few seconds, he is still, no longer the constantly moving mass he usually is.

After a few more moments of silence, Anthony shakes his head. “Forget about it.”

“No, no,” Ian says quickly, shaking his head. “I actually do have an answer, just…let me figure it out for a little bit, okay? I promise I’ll tell you.”

Anthony doubts it. Ian looks a little unsure, as much as he tries to hide it with that little smile of his, and he looks a little bit guilty, as well, like he’s already lying to Anthony’s face even though he hasn’t really said anything. Still, he doesn’t push.

Ian inhales sharply, then stands up. “Are you ready for this?”

Anthony looks up, and for a moment, he can’t breathe. Ian is bathed in almost golden light, and in this sliver of space and time, Ian looks absolutely ethereal, something or, well, _someone_ who doesn’t really exist outside of Anthony’s wildest fantasies. His eyes look exceptionally blue, courtesy of the light and the tie that complements him so perfectly.

French blue and muted gold. It would have been more suited for a wedding that was his and Ian’s—French blue for his eyes and muted gold for his hair.

But this isn’t his and Ian’s wedding. Ian isn’t the person he proposed to in Japan, isn’t the person who accepted the ring he himself had chosen. Ian is the best man, the best friend who had bought him shitty champagne and congratulated him on his engagement, the guy who stood by him through every ridiculous step of meticulously planning the wedding.

Anthony shakes his head and forces himself to smile. “I will be,” he says, hoping against hope that he will, because he doesn’t really know what he’s going to do if he doesn’t. He stands up, sweaty palms brushing down his legs as he tries to straighten invisible creases on his slacks. In front of him, Ian smoothly swings his shoulders out in an entirely out-of-character way and puts his suit jacket on, and Anthony, for a few seconds, finds himself unable to look away.

Ian buttons his jacket, then looks up at Anthony, his eyes warm and fond. “I’m happy for you, man,” he says softly, then walks toward him and envelops him in a hug he isn’t really prepared for but accepts anyway. Anthony slowly brings his arms around Ian as well, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the side of Ian’s head, allowing himself this one small moment, this one memory only he will have.

He inhales, and suddenly his senses are flooded with everything that Ian is. He smells Ian’s favorite aftershave, woodsy and a little bit musky, something more expensive and fragrant than the Axe Ian used to buy those first few years after high school, when having Axe seemingly made people look cool, and he feels his heart flip-flops in his chest.

Here, with his arms around Ian and with Ian’s arms around him, he feels time slow down to a crawl, as if the universe is letting him have this one moment to memorize everything about Ian while he still can. He doesn’t really know why he’s doing this—he’s not _dying_ , after all—but still, he lets himself burrow his nose even deeper, Ian’s hair tickling the tip of his nose.

Weddings are supposed to happy, but Anthony, for all that he’s the groom, feels like he’s already mourning something before it’s even dead.

With a small sigh, Anthony pulls away from Ian’s hug and shoots him a somewhat strained smile. “Thanks,” he manages to choke out, and he has to bite the insides of his cheek to stop himself from saying more things. Other things. Things that are too late to say. Things like, “I think I’m making a mistake,” or “hey, run away with me?”

Ian nods curtly. “I’m stepping outside, okay? I’ll leave you a moment to yourself, then I’ll knock on your door when the ceremony’s about to start.” He turns toward the door, but the stops and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he shakes his head and closes his mouth. “Good luck, man,” he finally decides to say, then he walks away, closing the wooden door behind him with a small, quiet click.

Anthony remains standing, helpless as he watches the door close with what feels like a resounding finality. It feels like some sort of metaphor the universe is trying to communicate to him, he feels, like he’s closing the door on some adventures he thought he and Ian would have in the future, or like Ian is walking out of his life to give him space. Neither of these are thoughts he would like to entertain—in fact, both thoughts leave him with the taste of bile in his mouth and an overwhelming urge to vomit. He feels like the bowtie he’s wearing is slowly squeezing the life out of him, feels too hot and too cold and too restless to be in this jail of a room.

He’s not ready for this.

It’s a thought that sinks in his stomach like a deadweight, and he falls back to the couch, allowing the weight to pull him under. He lets his head hang, and he feels like he’s underwater, struggling to breathe, struggling to _live_.

Unable to sit still, he jumps up and starts pacing the entire length of the room, glancing at the window with a longing look.

He’s not really thinking about walking out on his own wedding, is he? He _proposed_ to Kalel. He wanted this, wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. This…this shouldn’t be taken seriously. This is just pre-wedding jitters. Everybody has them.

Before he can contemplate the thought further, three raps on the door catch his attention.

The door opens a sliver, and Ian looks into the room. “It’s time,” he says, before shooting him another small smile and closing the door behind him.

Anthony exhales slowly and nods to himself, tugging his suit jacket to straighten it out.

He’ll be fine.

-.-.-.-

There’s a certain type of quietness that Anthony has come to expect when he’s with his mom. It’s not a cold sort of silence, no, rather, it’s a comfortable one, with both of them knowing that there are things—emotions—that they can’t ever hope to express in words. When they do talk, his mother takes her time to think over the words she’s going to say, and Anthony lets her, if only because it allows him the same privilege, allows him to think over his own responses.

His childhood home is still mostly the same. The scratches on the wooden dining table are still there, as well as the initials he engraved onto one table leg, and he thinks about the many times when he offered to buy his mom a much better dining table, only to be told no because the old one is “still functional, Anthony, don’t waste your money on things like these.”

“Congratulations,” his mom finally decides to say, and there’s a proud gleam in her eyes as well as a beautiful smile playing on her lips. She always made sure to show her son just how proud she was of all the things he accomplished, and this, he knows, is no exception. He knows his mom always wanted him to date someone seriously, always wanted him to settle down and form a family of his own, and now that he’s on his way to doing exactly that, he knows she approves of his decisions.

“Thanks, mom,” he says, and he means it. “I’m happy, you know.”

Leezah nods. “I know,” she says with all the certainty of a mother who knows her child even better than she knows herself. “How is she?”

“Kalel?” At Leezah’s nod, he offers her a soft smile. “She’s good. She wanted to come with me to tell you the news, actually, but she ended up deciding to stay in LA.”

Leezah smiles at him, understanding. “Of course,” she agrees. “When’s the wedding, then?”

“It’s only been a couple of days since I proposed, mom,” Anthony reminds her, smiling kindly. “We don’t exactly know details yet, although I’ll be sure to tell you the plan when we’ve talked it out.”

Leezah puts her fork down gently, and Anthony knows she’s about to tell him something important. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, and it’s not unkind, not exactly, just _wondering_ , in the way that mothers often ask their children if they’re sure they want to spend their savings on a new gaming console.

Anthony offers his mom a small smile. “I am,” he says, sure. “She makes me happy.”

Leezah smiles at him, bright and proud and a little bit like the ones she used to shoot him when he was still a kid and brought her all his drawings from school.

It makes him feel like a kid again, and for some unknown reason, this rubs him the wrong way.

-.-.-.-

His mom is nervous.

Anthony can’t really blame her. Past the doors are the hundred or so guests he and Kalel invited, guests who his mom doesn’t really know. Leezah, as well as she pretends that she’s all right by smiling gently and fussing with every single detail like the mother she is, isn’t all right at all. Anthony knows this because he’s seen her do this over the years, pretend like she’s fine even when she isn’t, and because he’s been through this, himself. He’s experienced wanting to curl up into a ball while he’s being the center of attention, experienced that cold, tight, vice-like feeling grip his heart with no regard for its owner, experienced his lungs not fully cooperating with him as he struggles to get enough air in to breathe.

Wordless, he hugs his mom tight, closing his eyes against the sudden pinprick beneath his eyes, against the tears he knows will fall if he lets his eyes remain open. He’s so thankful, and so, so scared, that at this moment, just a few steps away from the wooden doors of the church, he can do nothing but hug his mom tight, feeling like a lost little child from his own past. His mom, surprised, does nothing at first, her arms remaining by her sides, but then she realizes what’s happening and she brings her arms around her son, hugging him as tightly as he’s hugging her.

“Mom,” he says softly, voice a little broken, “I—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. One of Kalel’s wedding assistants motions at him, and he backs away from his mom’s embrace to hug his dad tightly for a few seconds before they have to walk into the church. It’s just as well, he thinks, because he doesn’t have any idea what to say. There are too many emotions and thoughts clamoring for his attention right now, all of which he can’t really put into words. He can’t focus on them either, because in front of him, the assistant is motioning frantically, wanting him to get on with the program because everything is planned out, down to the last detail, and he’s already taking too much time with his own wedding.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at his mom and dad, thinks, “when they got married, did they think about their marriage ending in divorce?” and exhales sharply.

He’s not going to think about that.

“You ready?” His dad asks, looking at him with honest curiosity in his eyes.

 _No_ , he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods. “I am.”

The wedding assistant beams, relieved that everything’s on schedule, and she nods to herself before opening the wedding doors.

 _Welcome to the rest of your life_ , he thinks, and steps forward.

-.-.-.-

When he was a kid, his dad was at their house a lot.

Because of this, he never really felt like he didn’t have a dad, unlike most of the people who were raised by single mothers. His dad always hung out with him, always talked to him and listened to his stories, and so even though he and his mom didn’t live under the same roof, he never really felt like he didn’t have a complete family.

That was the good part, at least.

With his dad being over at the house all the time, however, it wasn’t uncommon for Anthony to hear him and his mom having fights in his mom’s bedroom. Loud conversations often turned into shouting matches that he, for the life of him, can’t try to ignore. No matter how much he turned the volume of the television up, the screaming was always louder.

At a young age, he understood why his mom and dad weren’t really together like his friends’ parents. Whenever his friends talked about all the fun things they did with their families, he didn’t really feel bad for himself or his mom—just slightly jealous. He didn’t feel bad because he knew, even at a young age, that there were just some people who were better apart than together. As a kid, he already knew that love was a fickle thing, something ephemeral and over-glamorized by the various industries to milk it for every penny of its worth, though of course he didn’t quite have the words to describe the knowledge he had yet.

Was he jaded or was he simply realistic? He doesn’t really know. To be honest, Anthony remembers so little of his childhood that he doesn’t know if his thoughts were really that cynical way back when. It doesn’t matter anyway, he thinks, because that was then.

This is now.

Then was wondering about why people even get into romantic relationships at all if it was just going to bite them in the ass one day. Then was about wondering why love is even such a popular thing if it was just going to make you hurt. Then was seeing his mom and dad fighting over the pettiest little things and bringing the most complicated details they know about each other into the fight like their own personal homing missiles because once upon a time, they were actually in love.

Now is meeting Kalel and realizing that hey, he actually enjoys being around her and hey, he can actually see himself being with her for a long period of time, maybe even _forever_. Now is waking up with her in the mornings and realizing that he’s really not a romantic and is more of a realist, and that what else can be better than finding someone you can actually see yourself spending the rest of your life with, even if he’s not really sure that he loves her in the way the rest of the world seem hell-bent on emphasizing? Now is knowing that love doesn’t exist, and that he’s lucky enough to have found someone he knows he will enjoy himself with.

Now is taking his chance and proposing, because even though he doesn’t believe in love, the idea of being alone for the rest of his life scares him.

Of course, because of the cause-and-effect relationship _then_ and _now_ have, it’s impossible to fully separate the two. Then and now is Anthony saying “I love you” to Kalel even though he knows he really doesn’t feel that way, because it seems like the right thing to do. Then and now is feeling something like attraction and friendship mixed together in a pleasant cocktail whenever he’s around Kalel, something that, while amazing in itself, isn’t really the kind of _connection_ all the books and movies and music keep telling him love ensures.

Then and now is knowing that this isn’t love, but hell, it’s definitely close enough.

Once, Anthony actually thought he could be aromantic. During one particular searching session on Google in which he had discovered a lot more about sexuality that he thought he would prior to stumbling upon some websites, especially since he had initially gone on Google so he could find out how being in love is supposed to feel like, he started rifling through his mental filing cabinet for Kalel and all the things he felt for her. He started to evaluate more critically his beliefs about love and his feelings about the idea of romantic relationships with actual people, and for a moment, he believed he was aromantic.

To say he felt relieved is an understatement. During that one moment, he actually felt like he could breathe, like his heart was finally being released from the vise-grip it was in. He, for all that he’s confused about love and the apparent wonders of it, isn’t the only one in the world who feels the way he does about romantic relationships.

The feeling of relief, however, only lasted for a minute before he shook his head. There was a certain kind of finality to labeling himself as aromantic that he’s not really sure he’s comfortable with, and so he had closed the tabs on his browser and promised to himself to leave what he’d just learned alone for a few more days.

Time. He needed time to figure things out.

He still does.

-.-.-.-

The church is beautiful.

One would think that after spending almost too much time around Kalel while she planned their wedding, he would figure out what the end result would be, but no. The dusty gold carpet beneath his feet is plush and has bronze trimming, reminding him of the kind of carpet used in television shows that feature castles. Blue silk cloth adorn the sides of pews, decorated with some pretty white flowers Anthony doesn’t really know the name of but knows the cost of. There, at the very end, is a kind-looking, slightly-balding priest—Father Simmons, he recalls.

He tries to remember to walk slowly. At this moment, he is hyperaware of all the eyes on him, of the videographer not so subtly following his steps from the far right of the room, and every body part of his is screaming for him to run, to hide from these people’s eyes, to take the next flight to nowhere and figure things out for himself.

He ignores the screaming of the various parts of him. He ignores the aching of his head. He ignores the too-loud pounding of his heart and walks slowly towards the aisle, his eyes looking at the gigantic wooden crucifix hanging behind the priest, because well, it’s too late to back out now.

Eventually, they reach the end of the aisle, and he takes his time to hug his mom and dad, squeezing them both tight as he does so. He wants to somehow communicate to his mom that he’s scared, but his throat doesn’t quite work right and the words just won’t come to him. He had more than a year leading up to this wedding, but he never got the chance to ask her if she knew her marriage was just going to end up in divorce, and now, the question is at the forefront of his mind, written in big, block letters with vivid orange neon lights. He wishes he could ask her now, but then she’s leaving with his dad, towards the left side where they are going to sit. Suddenly, she’s too far away, and Anthony feels too cold, standing there, at one end of the aisle, watching as various members of the entourage walk down the same gold carpet he had walked on.

He watches his and Kalel’s closest friends walk down the aisle with big smiles on their faces, until finally, it’s the best man and the maid of honor walking down the aisle. Ian is smiling faintly, probably overwhelmed by the attention like Anthony. Ian looks up and his eyes meet Anthony’s, and suddenly, Anthony finds it both easier and harder to breathe at the same time.

Ian and Hannah, Kalel’s best friend from her hometown, reach the end of the aisle and part ways. Ian walks toward Anthony, and all Anthony wants to do is get out of here, preferably with Ian by his side. Ian, who is standing beside him and surreptitiously squeezing his shoulder to let him know that he’s there for him and that he will be fine, Ian, who can somehow make it easier for Anthony to forget the stress and focus on the expansion and contraction of his lungs without even trying, Ian, who is closer to him now than the bride.

He tries not to think about what that means. He fails, he thinks, though he quickly forgets about it when Kalel begins to walk down the aisle in a beautiful white gown that makes her look otherworldly. She has her hair artfully styled in a bun, golden brown locks that were left out of the bun on purpose framing her face in an intricately messy way that makes Anthony think of beauty in the face of chaos.

He steps down the aisle, numb and only half-aware of what he’s doing, and offers a hand to Kalel. Kalel smiles up at him, beautiful and loving, and as she takes his hand, he feels nothing but frustration. Frustration at himself for pushing through with this when he knew from the very beginning that he didn’t really love Kalel the way she thought he did. Frustration at the world for making him this way.

Frustration at Ian, for making Anthony confused, for making Anthony second-guess everything, for making Anthony want things he’s not even really sure he wants.

“I love you,” Kalel whispers to him as they walk up the stairs and face Father Simmons.

Anthony smiles at her, weak, and says the words back, tasting something like cotton balls at the back of his throat as he does so.

-.-.-.-

“Congratulations to the newly-engaged man of the group! May he find married life if not enjoyable, then at least bearable.”

Anthony rolls his eyes at Sohinki’s words, but he raises his beer anyway in salute, grinning.

It’s evening, and they’re all still in the office. Earlier in the day, they actually planned to go out and eat dinner somewhere fancy to celebrate Anthony’s engagement, but as the day went on, their work piled up and up until it became evident that they had to work overtime just to get at least a respectable amount of work done. Not wanting to skip the celebration, Joven, Wes, and Ian actually went to the nearest Kroger and bought beer, soda, chips, and, because Wes was there, various sweets. While they were away, Sohinki took the time to order pizza, and now here they are, in their office, eating and trying to be as quiet as possible in their celebration as to not disturb the other people in the building unfortunate enough to have to work overtime.

They’re also, Anthony thinks as he watches David lean further back in his chair while drinking his beer, doing their best to ignore specific rules about eating and drinking near computers and other expensive office equipment. He can’t quite bring himself to care though, not now when he’s a little bit drunk on the feeling of finally achieving an important life goal.

He’s just glad he and Ian managed to dissuade the higher ups from putting security cameras in their offices.

Flitz, while waiting for the video clips he’s going to edit to load on his computer, turns around in his swivel chair and catches Anthony’s eye. “You excited?”

Anthony removes the bottle of beer from his lips. “For what?”

Flitz shrugs, effortlessly graceful even in just that single, small movement. “The inevitable wedding. Married life. All those adult things.” He pauses, thinking about what he’s going to say next, before continuing, “I mean, you must have some kind of reservations over the whole thing, right?”

Mari motions to him with a slice of pizza in one hand. “Flitz, just because you’re afraid to do adult things doesn’t mean Anthony is,” she jokes, mouth curled up at the edges in amusement. “He’s becoming an adult, unlike the rest of us.”

David snorts. “Just because you get married doesn’t mean you’re an _adult_ ,” he says, before grabbing a handful of Cheetos from the bag Sohinki offers him. “I mean, yeah sure, getting married is an adult thing to do, but it doesn’t really make you an adult.” He crams the handful of Cheetos into his mouth. “I mean, look at me,” he adds as an afterthought, bits of Cheetos flying out of his mouth as he does so.

“Ew,” Wes says, avoiding the spot on the floor where orange bits are as he walks toward his chair with a huge chocolate chip cookie in hand.

David chews through the rest of the Cheetos and swallows, motioning towards the floor with the hand holding the beer bottle by the neck. “Case in point.”

“I’m excited,” Anthony finally says, tearing his eyes away from the bits of Cheetos on the floor. Somebody’s going to have to clean that, he thinks, if they don’t want the higher ups to be pissed at them for having so much shit on the floor. There are already numerous stains on the floor that look like they’re there to stay—they don’t need bits of food on the floor, too. “I mean, I think I am,” he adds, looking down at his bottle of beer as if it provides the answers to the questions he didn’t even know until just now that he had.

Mari, apparently getting the feeling that everything’s becoming too serious, too quickly, shakes her head. “Oh come on. Anthony, you’re getting married. You’re settling down with the girl of your dreams. That’s a pretty adult thing to do, and not even talking while chewing Cheetos is going to negate that,” she says, though she shoots a dark look at David, already knowing that somebody’s going to have to clean that mess up.

Joven grins. “Do you and Kalel have a theme for the wedding yet? Because I think a cross-dressing themed wedding would be great, man. You’d look like a princess in a bridal gown.”

Anthony laughs, though it’s not as carefree as he would like it to be. Though Flitz has his back to him and has already seemingly forgotten about his question in favor of beginning to edit a video, Anthony hasn’t forgotten.

He glances at Ian who has noticeably been silent this entire time.

There’s something wrong with this picture, he thinks. Ian, who normally is excitable even during late nights at the office, is quiet now, his eyes staring unseeing at the floor. Anthony, for all that he’s worried, can’t quite bring himself to go over to Ian and ask if he’s all right, because he knows that he is currently the center of attention, and once he walks over to Ian, he’ll have to share the spotlight with him.

Call him crazy, but he knows at least a little bit of how Ian feels. He’s been in that state, himself, before. If he were Ian, he wouldn’t appreciate any kind of attention, even from his friends.

So he stays away. He remains in his seat, watches Joven eat another pizza while going over a Game Bang video, and drinks his beer.

It’s all right, he thinks. He and Ian have already had their private celebration a few days ago, anyway.

-.-.-.-

The wedding goes by in a blur.

He vaguely recalls taking the paper Ian offered him and reading his vows out loud, vaguely remembers saying “I do” when Father Simmons asks him if he takes Kalel to be his lawfully wedded wife, vaguely remembers taking the ring from Ian’s palm and slipping it onto Kalel’s finger.

Before he knows it, he’s kissing Kalel in front of hundreds of people, hands gripping Kalel’s waist almost too-tightly, and his lips dancing with Kalel’s.

Kalel tastes like lipstick and minty toothpaste, tastes like the morning fruit smoothies she always drinks and Quinoa, tastes a little too much like poor decisions and regret. It’s with that thought that Anthony pulls away from her and forces a smile to twist his lips.

The nervousness he thought would leave him once the wedding was over is still there, and it, to be perfectly honest, is more worrying than it has any right to be. Isn’t he supposed to be excited for the rest of his life by now? Isn’t he supposed to be looking forward to the honeymoon? To buying a house? To someday forming a family with Kalel?

The guests, for some unknown reason, start clapping, and he sees Kalel beam beside him, radiant and glowing in her silk and lace bridal gown. He smiles too, almost as an afterthought, and glances at Ian behind him and to the left.

“You made it,” Ian mouths, the edges of his lips curled upward.

Anthony nods, grateful. There’s so many things he wants to tell Ian, so many things he wants to thank him for, but then Ian’s stepping down the few steps and joining the recession with Kalel’s maid of honor, and Anthony’s left alone at the aisle with Kalel, watching Ian walk towards the heavy wooden doors.

It feels like some sort of analogy the universe wants him to understand, and with a sinking feeling, he thinks he’s starting to get what the universe is telling him now. There’s a bitter taste at the back of his throat and a lovely bride— _wife_ —standing beside him, and Anthony _understands_ now.

“Let’s go?” Kalel asks him, smile bright and happy and all the things Anthony _isn’t_ right now, the question not really asking him if he’s willing to go with her, but is rather about if he’s ready to go _now._ It doesn’t really matter what the question is, he thinks, because his answer is no, either way. He nods, anyway, because there are guests looking at him and Kalel, and this is not something he can think or talk about right now.

“Yes,” he says, voice small, yet ringing with a sense of finality. It’s a reminder for himself. He can’t have second thoughts.

He just can’t.

-.-.-.-

_I mean, you must have some kind of reservations over the whole thing, right?_

Flitz’s question hasn’t left Anthony’s mind. Where there was once excitement over him finally reaching a life goal, there is now niggling uncertainty. Anthony normally welcomes second thoughts and other opinions, but now, doubting the entire thing feels a little bit like cheating on Kalel, even though he isn’t actually doing anything behind her back.

Kalel is a wonderful person. She doesn’t deserve Anthony second-guessing everything like this, especially since he was the one who proposed in the first place.

Which leads to the question: why _did_ he propose to her?

He’s not in love with her. He might not really know what love is, but he knows what it _isn’t_ , and it _isn’t_ this. Somehow, he knows that this, the affection he feels for Kalel and the appreciation he has for her and everything she’s done for him, isn’t quite the kind of love the rest of the world is so obsessed with.

Still, that’s fine. It’s not like everyone marries for love, after all, and this, the fact that he actually likes having Kalel around and can see her being by his side and vice versa, is a lot more than what some people have.

Kalel _knows_ him. She might not know him as well as some people say one’s life partner should know their significant other, but she knows _enough._ She knows when he’s having a panic attack, knows his pet peeves, knows what he’s going to do in certain situations.

Really, he’s lucky to have even found her.

With that thought in mind, he tries to forget about Flitz’s question. It remains there, though, in a corner of his mind, stubbornly sticking to the insides of his skull like a tattoo he didn’t really ask for.

A week later, he’s in their apartment, watching Breaking Bad with Kalel on their bed, and Flitz’s question still echoes in his mind.

-.-.-.-

His mom is smiling, though it’s somewhat strained. It’s probably the sheer amount of people in the reception hall that’s bothering her, and wordless, Anthony lets go of Kalel’s hand and hugs his mom tight.

“You’re married now,” his mom says, pride evident in the tone of her voice and the way she lightly pats on his back with her hands. When he pulls back, his mom pats his head, reminding him of when he was young and sheepishly showing his mom his low grades in Math. His mom, back then, merely smiled and pat his head, telling him to go study. She used to convince him into studying harder for exams by telling him she would rent a video game if he had high grades, and it had actually worked, at least until the time came when he could either rent the video games he wanted with his own money or just play the video games Ian had at his own house.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Thanks, mom.” _For everything_ , he doesn’t say, because he has the feeling that his mom already knows. She’s a mother, after all, and mothers know about this sort of thing.

His mom looks at his side, looking for Kalel, and upon finding her a few feet away, talking to other guests, his mom directs her attention back on him and allows her smile to soften. “I’m happy you’re happy, Anthony. You know, when you were younger, I actually thought you were going to end up with Ian.”

Anthony’s heart thuds louder in his chest. His mom doesn’t know about the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind, does she? “Really?” he manages to choke out.

His mom offers him a sort of sheepish smile. “You used to be so shy, Anthony,” she tells him, as if he needs reminding. “Now, I know you’re a nice person—I raised you to be kind to others, after all—but you just weren’t the type of person to offer rides home to just anyone. And then suddenly, you were giving this kid named Ian rides, even though you were almost always concerned about gas.” His mom smiles, and it’s nostalgic in such a way that Anthony has never seen on her. “You weren’t so shy after you started hanging out with this kid, and I couldn’t figure out why since he seemed shy himself. Only after nights of hearing you and Ian talk loudly about anything and everything in your room did I figure out that he wasn’t exactly as shy as I thought he was.”

There are hundreds of people in this room right now, but they might as well have vanished for all that Anthony has momentarily forgotten about their presence. The thudding in his chest becomes even more forceful, and it can’t possibly be healthy, but there really isn’t anything he can do about that.

He clears his throat, one hand coming up to fiddle with his bowtie in an attempt to make it easier for him to breathe. “So what, you thought that I liked him back then because of that?” he asks, astounded.

His mom laughs, a little self-deprecating. “Yes,” she admits. “It was probably just the mother in me trying to imagine who you were going to end up with.”

“But mom, I’m straight,” Anthony reasons, the thudding of his heart loud in his ears. He’s not straight, not really, but he doesn’t tell his mom that, because it’s not like he knew about himself not being straight back when he was a kid and was apparently sending his mom signals that he liked Ian in a totally different way than he actually did.

His mom grins, shrugging. “You never actually told me you were straight, you know,” his mom tells him, amused. “It’s not like you came out to me and told me you were attracted only to girls. You weren’t exactly the sharing type when you grew up.”

Anthony’s mouth falls open. It takes him a lot longer than he cares to admit for him to actually close it. “I dated girls! I had girlfriends!” he reasons. He doesn’t know why he’s defending his apparent heterosexuality so vehemently when he actually knows now that he isn’t as straight as he once thought he was. Maybe it’s just him not liking the idea that his mom already knew, on some level, some important things about his sexuality that he hadn’t really figured out until only about a year ago, or maybe it’s something else he hasn’t really thought about yet, but it doesn’t matter. What matters to him right now is understanding his mother’s thought process.

His mom raises an eyebrow. “So?” she asks. “Bisexuality exists. I’m sure there are other sexualities I don’t know about that you kids are much more familiar with,” she says, waving her hand as if it’s nothing important—as if the things that are coming out of her mouth aren’t shaking Anthony’s world right now.

It’s not that Anthony ever thought that his mom was particularly narrow-minded, no, it’s just that he never thought his mom was _this_ open-minded.

At Anthony’s sudden loss of the ability to string words together into a decent sentence, his mom laughs. “Anthony, I was pregnant with you when I was a little too young, remember? I’m a little more open-minded than most moms, I promise you.” She shakes her head. “But that was back then. I guess it was just me wanting to think about you someday ending up with someone.”

Anthony offers her a smile, but it’s a little weak.

He’s saved from having to think about something to say when Ian walks to them.

“Hey Anthony, they want you back at the table.” Ian shoots Anthony’s mom an apologetic look. “The speeches are starting,” he says by way of explanation.

“It’s fine,” his mom says, smiling kindly at Ian. “I’m returning to my seat anyway.”

Ian nods, then walks away, towards the long rectangular table in front of the hall, where the bride, groom, and the entourage are supposed to be seated at.

Anthony looks around the room, looks at the various guests talking among themselves while eating the vegan food he and Kalel had picked beforehand during the various meetings with the caterers, then looks back at his mom. “You okay, mom?” he asks, not needing to clarify what he means, because he knows his mom understands his question.

His mom nods. “I’ll be fine,” she says.

“All right,” he replies, choosing to let the matter go. If his mother says she’s fine, she is. Or at least, she will be.

She always powers through, after all. There’s no reason why this should be different.

It’s not long before he’s at the table, seated beside Kalel once more. The table, wooden and covered in pristine white cloth and decorated with little blue fairy lights, reminds him of those nights when Kalel meticulously planned up to the smallest detail just what the table they’re going to be seated at will look like. Now, he has to admit that it actually looks beautiful in the dimmed lighting of the hall, and with the addition of the small golden candle-like lights placed every two feet, the table actually looks a little bit like magic.

In front of him is an area with shiny wooden flooring meant for dancing, and it’s surrounded by numerous circular tables with small candle-like lights placed in the middle where the guests are seated.

It feels intimate.

He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

“All right,” Ian says from where he’s standing behind the glass podium, “speech time.”

Anthony watches Ian look at the guests seated before them, and grins when Ian grips the microphone tighter in his hand and looks at him and Kalel, saying, “I’m speechless.”

Ian looks back out over the crowd. “I mean that literally, by the way. I’m speechless. I was supposed to write a speech maybe a month or two ago, but I kind of forgot about it until earlier this morning.” There’s a sheepish look on his face that’s only half-visible to Anthony in the dim lighting of the room. It’s a little more adorable than it has any right to be.

The guests laugh. Somewhere in that mixture of various sounds, Anthony can hear Sohinki’s signature chuckle.

“But anyway,” Ian continues, “I’m here to say a speech so I guess I’ll just wing it.”

Anthony lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. Ian has always been the spontaneous type. It figures that this won’t exactly be an exemption to that.

“I guess I’ll begin with addressing the beautiful bride,” Ian says, effortlessly charming, even as he wings his best man’s speech. Anthony glances at Kalel beside him and finds her grinning widely, blushing from the simple, yet delighting, compliment. “Kalel, you’re, like, a ten. Why’d you go for Anthony?” he jokes, good-natured, and Anthony laughs, remembering those first few days after meeting Kalel and talking to Ian about how he honestly can’t believe that someone like Kalel actually found him interesting.

“But seriously,” Ian says when the laughter dies down, his grin softening to a much more beautiful smile, “I want to take this time to congratulate Kalel and Anthony for finding something as valuable as this.”

Ian as a jokester is not an unknown thing. Most people already know that Ian is just naturally funny, making others laugh when he’s not even trying, but not a lot of people have seen the more serious side of him. Not a lot of people have seen Ian when he’s in meeting after meeting with Anthony and the higher ups of Youtube, and they _definitely_ haven’t seen that side of Ian when he’s genuinely worried about someone he cares about and will drop anything and everything for them.

Anthony remembers a particular day when Ian had gotten a phone call from his dad about how his mom had gotten a heart attack scare and was currently in the hospital. It had taken Ian approximately ten minutes to buy a plane ticket back to Sacramento, pack a small backpack, and call Anthony to tell him just where he was headed. By the time Anthony had decided to buy a plane ticket and fly to Sacramento with Ian, Ian was already at the airport and about to board the plane.

In the end, Anthony still bought the ticket. He flew to Sacramento alone and headed straight to the hospital when he landed.

He couldn’t _not_. Sharon was, and still is, like a second mother to him.

“To Anthony,” Ian says, glancing at him before looking back at the crowd, “I hope you’re happy with what you’ve found for yourself. This is pretty spectacular, man, and way more than what we thought we’d get to have a few years down the line.”

Ian pauses. He takes a deep breath and exhales. “To Kalel, I hope you treat Anthony well.” At this, he turns away from the crowd to fully look at Anthony and Kalel. Anthony doesn’t quite know how to breathe past the constricting feeling encompassing his chest, doesn’t quite know if it’s just a trick of the light or if there really is heartbreaking beneath Ian’s blue eyes, and so he stays silent and waits for Ian’s next words with his heart thudding painfully loud in his ears.

“Anthony has been my best friend for so long now that, frankly, it’s a miracle that we haven’t gotten sick and tired of each other yet,” Ian jokes, “and during those years, we’ve mainly been each other’s support system through the good and the bad.”

The good and the bad.

Anthony blinks and he’s seventeen, filming ridiculous lip-synching videos on his dad’s video camera with Ian. He blinks, and he’s nineteen again and being cheered up by Ian with promises of free pizza and staying overnight at Ian’s house playing Halo all night long because he just got his heart broken by Charlotte. He blinks again, and he’s in the here and now, getting married to someone he’s only met five years before.

What are five years compared to sixteen years?

Ian, oblivious to Anthony’s completely worrying and confusing thought process, continues with his speech. “Now, he has you. And I’m glad that he has, because now he actually has someone who can actually give him good advice.”

The crowd laughs. Kalel chuckles. Anthony can’t even manage to let a strained smile curl the edges of his lips upward.

“So Kalel, take care of him.” Ian avoids Anthony’s eyes and turns back to the crowd again. “And Anthony, man, I still don’t know how you managed to get Kalel to say yes to your proposal, but hey, here you are. I’m happy for you both.”

Anthony’s a little frozen in his seat, the realization that he might just be feeling something a lot different than the platonic feelings he thought he felt towards Ian hitting him like an 18-wheeler.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

Although, well, he’s not really as immovable as he thought he was, is he? He’s not, because the thudding of his heart is growing louder, the breaths he’s taking are becoming shallower, and the thoughts in his mind are racing faster. He’s not, because Ian is still speaking at the podium, dressed in his gray and blue suit because he’s attending Anthony’s _wedding_ as the _best man_ , and all he can think about is how he might not have known then what love is supposed to feel like, but he does _now_.

He does now. Oh God, he does now.

Ian takes a deep breath then faces him and Kalel once more. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say that I wish the best for you both.”

Anthony meets Ian’s eyes, and there it is, the hint of sadness he thought he saw. It’s _there_. It’s not some desperate, hopeful hallucination. It’s there, and it’s real, and Anthony doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do with this information.

“To the happy bride and groom,” Ian says, and his eyes are still on Anthony’s, earnest and pleading, wanting Anthony to _understand_ , although understand _what_ , exactly, Anthony still doesn’t know, “congratulations.”

And then he’s raising his flute of vegan champagne, and drinking down every last drop.

Anthony raises his own flute and drinks, his head still a mess.

He tries not to think of spontaneous flights to Los Angeles and cheap champagne that tastes like pee.

-.-.-.-

“So. Dumb question here.”

Ian doesn’t even pause, continuing to run on the treadmill. “Hit me,” he says, his voice breathy with exhaustion.

Anthony slows the treadmill down, one hand reaching for the dark green towel he has placed beside his bottle of water. “What’s love supposed to feel like?”

Ian loses his footing and half-stumbles on the treadmill, hands flying out and grabbing the first thing they can grab onto, which just turned out to be the treadmill’s handlebars on either side of him. Quickly, Anthony reaches over and stops the treadmill, allowing Ian to stand up once more without worrying about slipping off the machine.

“Where’s this coming from?” Ian asks, looking at him with surprise in his eyes before reaching for his water bottle and taking a swig of water.

Anthony shrugs. “I was thinking about what Flitz said—”

“Oh, dude, no,” Ian says, shaking his head and returning his water bottle. He starts the machine again and starts walking slowly. “That was just a simple question. You can’t drive yourself crazy over something like that.” He glances at Anthony. “You love Kalel,” he says in a way that’s so heartfelt, Anthony thinks he can actually believe it.

Anthony shakes his head. “You don’t know that. Hell, _I_ don’t know that. And I won’t know until I know what love’s supposed to feel like.”

Ian raises the speed on his treadmill, shooting Anthony an incredulous look even as he starts to jog. “And what, you thought I would be the person to talk to about this? There’s a reason we don’t talk about relationships. We’re both shit at it, remember?”

Anthony follows Ian’s lead and raises the speed on his treadmill as well. This isn’t the sort of thing he and Ian talk about, and the gym isn’t the sort of place where they’d talk about personal shit like this if they _did_ talk about personal shit, but well, there really isn’t anyone else he would rather ask. Somehow, this doesn’t seem like the type of thing they should talk about over the phone, and with him living in Los Angeles and Ian living in Sacramento, they don’t really have much free time to just hang out.

Now, at eleven in the evening and while running on treadmills at Anthony’s gym, seems to be the right time to talk to Ian about it.

“Who would you want me to ask?”

“I don’t know,” Ian says, “Wes? Flitz? Sohinki? Joven? People who actually have romantic bones in their body?”

Anthony shrugs. “Out of all the people I know, you’re the one who has been in a long-ass relationship,” he says between gasps for breath.

“David’s married!” Ian protests.

Anthony looks at Ian, pleading. “Humor me.”

Ian glances at him, and, upon seeing the frankly pitiful look on Anthony’s face, sighs, slowing the treadmill down so he can walk and regain his breath. “All right,” he says, but he doesn’t continue for a few moments. He looks deep in thought, as though he actually understands the gravity of what Anthony’s asking him and is actually considering how he’s going to answer his question.

Anthony, on his part, remains quiet and lets Ian think over his answer. He slows the treadmill too, knowing that this is the type of thing he should be hearing when he’s breathing more or less properly and not when his brain’s screaming from lack of Oxygen.

 “Okay, so what do you want to know?” Ian finally asks after a few moments. “You want to know what love’s supposed to feel like?”

It sounds cheesy. It sounds so ridiculously like the type of one-liner that characters from corny soap operas say.

It’s also real. It’s also the kind of question Google can’t answer, the kind of question that’s been plaguing Anthony’s thoughts since he was a kid, the kind of question he has to have answered _now_ , before he gets married to Kalel and everything is too late to reverse.

At Anthony’s nod, Ian shrugs and gives him a faint smile. “Fuck if I know what love’s supposed to feel like,” he says, and at first Anthony becomes frustrated at Ian’s inability to take him seriously, already preparing to show Ian just how annoyed he is at Ian’s less than satisfying answer, but then Ian continues. “I don’t really know, honestly, because I think it’s different for everyone.”

Anthony blinks. “What do you mean it’s different for everyone?”

Ian shrugs. “I mean, uh.” He sighs, glancing at Anthony for a small moment before looking away. “I don’t really know. For some people, love is feeling that _burning desire_ ,” Ian says, saying the words “burning desire” while raising his hands and making the signs for quotation marks, “but for some, it’s just feeling content when you’re with that person. Or something.” Laughing half-heartedly, Ian raises a hand to run his fingers through his more than slightly disheveled hair. “Fuck, I’m horrible at giving advice, huh?”

Anthony ignores the self-deprecating joke and pauses the treadmill. Looking at Ian, he reaches for his towel and asks, “what do you feel when you’re with Melanie?”

It’s an honest question.

Ian pauses his treadmill. He gives the question some thought while reaching for his own towel and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Under the artificial lighting of the gym, he looks both tired and sad, but also beautiful in a way. Anthony follows one particular drop of sweat make its way down from Ian’s temple to his jaw, watches as that drop makes its way further down until Ian’s shirt makes it impossible for Anthony to follow the drop with his gaze.

Ian takes a deep breath, and Anthony looks up to find him chewing on his bottom lip, thoughtful. Finally, he says, “I feel comfortable when I’m with her.”

For some unknown reason, Anthony’s heart sinks to his stomach. He swallows past the lump in his throat, says, “oh,” and stays quiet, because the feeling enveloping him feels eerily like _jealousy_ , something he is seriously unprepared for.

The thing is, if the jealousy was simply him being jealous of the way Ian and Melanie are comfortable with each other and the way they’re in what looks like a relationship that might just last, it would’ve been understandable, and Anthony would have known how to deal with it. It’s not like he hasn’t been sort of jealous all this time, after all—he might have been the one in their friendship who had more girlfriends in high school, but he’s not the one in an almost six year-long committed relationship with a woman he apparently feels comfortable with.

But this jealousy…it’s different. It’s not him being jealous of Ian’s relationship with Melanie. Somehow, he knows it’s more about him being jealous of Melanie’s relationship with Ian.

Ian looks at him, and he looks somewhat confused, as if he, too, has a lot of thoughts he hasn’t really figured out yet.

Anthony knows that look. He has that look, himself.

“This is getting too deep,” Ian says, matter-of-fact, and Anthony laughs almost helplessly, because it’s just like Ian to defuse a loaded situation with an offhand joke.

Anthony shakes his head and gets off the treadmill, grabbing his water bottle and towel. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ian says, getting off the treadmill as well. “Figured you’d have a minor freak out. I mean, you are getting married.” He pauses. “Have you and Kalel been planning the wedding yet?”

Anthony shakes his head. “No, actually. It’s actually surprising. I thought she would have jumped at the chance to start planning, but nothing’s happening yet. So far, we’ve just decided on the date, but nothing else, really. We haven’t even talked about the budget.”

Ian nods, understanding. “Maybe she just wants to wait until there’s only a year before the wedding? That way booking’s easier?”

“I don’t think so. Isn’t it easier to book things way before the wedding?” Anthony shakes his head. “I’m letting her decide on what she wants. As long as we don’t get married in, like, a warehouse, I’ll be fine.”

“You know,” Ian says when they finally reach the men’s locker room, “you asked me about Mel and I, but I never got the chance to ask about you and Kalel.”

Anthony furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn’t comment. Though it’s unusual for Ian to bring personal stuff up in conversation, Anthony’s not going to say anything, because he actually does want to know where this is leading to.

So Anthony opens his locker and keeps his voice nonchalant when he asks, “what do you want to ask?”

“What do you feel towards Kalel?”

Anthony gives the question some thought.

“I don’t know,” Anthony finally says, taking out his backpack from the locker and setting it down on the wooden bench. He sits down and watches as Ian takes his own stuff out from the gray metal locker he chose. “I feel comfortable with her, and I do enjoy spending time with her, but I don’t think I’m in love with her.” He winces. “Oh God, I feel horrible.”

Ian sighs and sits down beside him, putting his backpack on his lap. “That sucks, man,” he says.

It does.

-.-.-.-

The lights are turned down low, the DJ is playing Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight”, and Anthony is dancing his first dance with Kalel as her husband.

Kalel has her arms around Anthony’s neck, and Anthony has his hands on Kalel’s hips, and it feels intimate, feels something that he, himself, should not be seeing, despite the fact that he’s part of it. The intimacy feels fake, somehow, like it’s a cheap, processed apple “pie” bought at Walmart instead of the homemade fresh apple pie he was looking forward to having.

He closes his eyes and lets himself sway to the music, lets the feeling of Kalel’s arms on his shoulders ground him to reality even as he imagines he’s dancing with someone else, as he imagines that he got married to someone else.

Of all the people to fall in love with, honestly, why did it have to be Ian? Why did it have to be his best friend? Why did it have to be with the guy who just got out of a long-term relationship?

But then again, why not?

Why not with the guy who knows just how to cheer him up when he’s sick? Why not with the guy who his family already considers one of their own? Why not with the guy who’s stuck with him for more than a decade?

Why not with the guy who his mom apparently thought he would end up with somewhere along the line?

There’s something seriously wrong with him. Who the hell dances their first dance with their wife and thinks about loving someone else?

The song ends, and Anthony opens his eyes and smiles down at Kalel, one hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear. Kalel smiles back at him, loving.

It’s not as if the attraction’s gone. He still finds Kalel a little too beautiful to actually be real, still finds it enjoyable to spend time with her, still finds her to be someone who actually knows him well. It’s not a matter of whether or not she’s good for him, because she _is_.

It’s just a matter of a particular someone else being better for him.

The DJ starts playing Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night”, and as the opening notes begin to play, Kalel reaches up and kisses Anthony passionately, her arms sliding down from his shoulders until she can grip his shoulders tightly with her hands. Anthony, helpless, kisses back and gives as good as he gets, eager to somehow prove to Kalel that he can be as passionate as her, to prove that though he might not love her now, he’s definitely more than willing to work on their marriage and to work on learning to love her as much as she loves him.

When Kalel pulls back, she beams at Anthony, her eyes shining a little bit with unshed tears. She puts her arms around him and hugs him tight.

Sinatra croons, “what were the chances?” and Anthony starts swaying Kalel and himself to the music, letting his eyes close.

A few moments later, Anthony opens his eyes. As Sinatra sings, “love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away,” he finds Ian dancing with Mari just a few feet from him and Kalel, the both of them looking like they’ve been having an important conversation the entire time they’ve been dancing.

Quickly looking away from Ian and Mari, Anthony mentally curses the DJ. What even were the odds? It’s like the universe is actually actively mocking him, or at least actively making him hurt more.

Hugging Kalel tighter to himself, Anthony closes his eyes once more and lets the song take over his mind.

He needs to stop thinking about Ian so much.

-.-.-.-

Somewhere between filming videos and hanging out whenever they find time, Anthony becomes attracted to Ian.

He doesn’t find it particularly dangerous, not really, because it’s simple and uncomplicated. So what if he finds his best friend attractive? Lots of people feel that way.

And it’s not like he’s _in love_ with him. Simple attraction to his best friend is not going to ruin his relationship.

In some ways, it’s a little bit like the attraction he feels for Kalel. He thinks Ian is beautiful. He likes spending time with him. He’s comfortable around him.

This is fine.

This is why he doesn’t find it hard at all to meet up with Ian one day at a vegan bakery and ask, “will you be my best man?”

Ian laughs. “So you and Kalel are finally working on those wedding plans, huh?”

Anthony takes a sip of his strawberry smoothie and shrugs. “Figured we had to start somewhere.” He narrows his eyes. “You didn’t say yes, though. You don’t want to be my best man?”

Ian puts his donut back on the pristine white plate, because this is precisely the kind of place that serves donuts on actual plates. “Of course I do,” he says, sincere. “Just, you know, not looking forward to the responsibilities.”

Anthony laughs, shaking his head. “Not much planning going on yet, so you don’t really have any responsibilities yet. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” Ian says before taking another bite of his donut.

There’s cream on the side of Ian’s lips.

He’s beautiful.

-.-.-.-

The night is over.

He’s a little bit drunk and a little bit unstable, but as he and Kalel walk out of the reception hall to applause from various guests, everything is clear. From where he is, he can see Courtney, Noah, and Flitz standing to one side, beaming and looking like they’re one small push away from actually hooting. Ryan and Joe are standing slightly behind Ian’s mom and dad, smiling and pink-cheeked from the alcohol. Just beside Sharon and Stephan Hecox are his own mom and dad, smiling and clapping politely.

Ian is nowhere to be seen.

When they’re finally out of the reception hall and taking the elevator to their suite, Kalel turns to him and grins. There’s sweat making its way down her face, ruining her makeup, but she doesn’t look like she particularly cares. Instead, she looks almost delirious with happiness.

“We’re married,” she says, her voice filled with wonder. “We’re actually married.”

Anthony glances at their reflection on the shiny stainless steel of the elevator doors. He looks like an actual mess in his tuxedo, what with all the dancing and all the greeting, and really, he should be happy, but he isn’t.

Still, he looks back at Kalel and says, “I love you.”

He doesn’t. Not really.

Kalel smiles up at him, though, believing, as always.

-.-.-.-

2014 sort of goes on like this:

They continue to film videos for Youtube. They go to awards shows and red carpet premieres and meeting after meeting with the bosses. They go on brainstorming sessions and they frustrate Ryan with their various antics.

They make a deal with Screen Junkies and they start producing Honest Game Trailers. They play Cards Against Humanity and Just Dance and Five Nights at Freddy’s. They celebrate the 100th episode of Game Bang by getting into actual inflatable balls and they produce Food Battle: The Game.

They make bad decisions. As always.

Kalel gets a pole. They also get another cat. He also gets further into veganism.

But then, 2014 also sort of goes like this:

Ian flies to Los Angeles every once in a while just so he can hang out with Anthony after filming videos. Anthony gets more than a little bit distracted by Ian’s eyes—and hands, and mouth, et cetera—and avoids him, for a little bit, because the attraction he’s feeling towards Ian is starting to feel disturbingly _too much_ like the attraction he feels for Kalel.

He spends more time with Kalel than ever. In an effort to erase the attraction he feels from Ian, he starts bringing Kalel with him, because then maybe, if she’s there, he can at least have the security of knowing that he can pretend that the cause behind his heart flip-flopping in his chest is his fiancée and not his best friend. He brings Kalel to premieres, to parties, hell, even to award shows, because he might as well get everyone used to him bringing his fiancée with him to various events.

But then Ian and Melanie break up, and Anthony finds himself driving to the airport to pick Ian up, the speed of his driving matched only by the speed of his thoughts. It’s midnight, and he should be back in his bed with Kalel and their three cats, but he’s not.

The airport, when he arrives there, is nearly empty. It’s not nearly as busy as it is during the mornings, and for a few moments, Anthony revels in the absolute stillness the place exudes, before he springs back into action and starts looking for the baggage claim of Ian’s flight.

He knows Ian probably flew with only a small backpack containing his most basic necessities, but still, he stands beside baggage claim and watches the hands on the clock move.

It’s not long before luggage starts appearing on the conveyor belt and people start walking towards baggage claim, looking like zombies with the bags under their eyes and the way they’re straggling. Ian stands out from the crowd, looking wide awake and alert instead of sleep-deprived and cranky, and Anthony immediately heads toward him, already looking for signs of distress.

“Hey,” Anthony says when he’s finally in front of Ian, ignoring the fact that they’re mostly in the middle and that people have to walk around them to get out of the airport, “I’m sorry.”

Ian shoots him a weak smile. “It’s fine.”

Anthony frowns. “No it’s not,” he says, then takes Ian’s laptop bag from his and slings it on his own shoulder. “Stop pretending it is.”

Ian rubs a tired hand down his face. “No, no, it’s fine, honestly,” he says as he effortlessly keeps up with Anthony’s own pace. The automatic glass sliding doors open as they approach it, and Ian says, “I broke up with her.”

Anthony freezes. “What?” He asks, looking at Ian. He resumes his pace, not wanting to be that annoying guy who’s standing in the middle of the doorway and letting the California evening heat get into the airconditioned building.

Ian shrugs. “It was time,” he says, not offering much else.

Anthony doesn’t push. Instead, he leads the two of them to where he parked his car in silence, thoughts swimming in his head. Ian not being in a relationship means he’s more or less free, now, and Anthony doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that information, or how he’s supposed to deal with it.

Hell, he probably shouldn’t even be dealing with it. He has a _fiancée_ , for fuck’s sake, and it’s not like he loves Ian in a romantic way, either. The attraction’s nothing special. It’s just there. It’s nothing Anthony should be throwing his own relationship away for.

Anthony drives away from the airport with a slightly clearer head and hands that are steady on the wheel. Beside him, Ian is silent and looking out the window, the streetlamps from the highway and the distant lights of various high-rise buildings illuminating him every now and then, making him look ethereal in the darkness.

“I feel bad,” Ian confesses, and he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes.

Anthony grips the steering wheel tighter and glances at Ian before looking back at the road. “Because you broke up with Melanie?”

Ian sighs. “Yeah.”

Anthony and Ian didn’t really talk about where they’re headed. He doesn’t know if Ian booked a hotel, or if he’s sleeping at the office. He doesn’t want to ask him, though, so he heads straight for his apartment.

Ian must have fallen asleep, because when Anthony finally cuts the ignition off and unbuckles his seatbelt, Ian’s eyes open, startled. He groans, seeing just where they are, and unbuckles his own seatbelt.

“We’re here.” Anthony doesn’t make a move to open the door.

Ian yawns, blinking as he looks around him. “Your apartment?”

“Yeah,” Anthony says simply. He glances out the window, at the relative darkness of the parking garage, and looks back at Ian.

Ian looks…lost. He looks so lost in the way he rarely is that Anthony wants to reach over the gear shift and hug him tight, just for a few moments.

Knowing that Ian would prefer for him not to talk about the break up, Anthony swallows past the lump in his throat and opens the door. “Come on. You can sleep on the couch.”

Ian doesn’t move. “I could just go to a hotel, you know,” he says, shooting Anthony a look.

“I know,” he agrees. “You’re not going to, though.” Anthony steps out of the car and gently closes the door, walking around the car to Ian’s side. He opens the door. “Come on, it’s late. We both need some sleep.”

“What about Kalel?”

“It’s fine,” he reassures Ian.

Ian looks like he wants to argue further, but then he just sighs and gets out of the car, grabbing his laptop bag. “Thanks man,” he says, closing the door behind him.

Not knowing what else to say, Anthony shoots him a small smile. “You’d do the same for me,” he says, sure.

Ian looks at him, something Anthony can’t quite describe or understand written across Ian’s face. “I would,” he says.

Anthony tries not to think about what that might mean.

-.-.-.-

Japan is beautiful. Even as Anthony is leaving it behind, even as the islands start to look like nothing more than specks from where Anthony is seated inside the plane beside Kalel, it still looks beautiful and nothing like anything else Anthony has ever seen.

The honeymoon was, in some ways, exquisite, yet saddening. In between trips to various places, he and Kalel made time for each other in their hotel suite. Now, a week later, he still feels kind of exhausted, but happy as well.

This past week allowed him to get his priorities in order. It had also allowed him to rediscover just what he loves about Kalel.

He might not love Kalel, but he _does_ love some things about her, and he has to make things work. He’s going to try and make this relationship work, because he might only be 28, but he does know that he wants something that will last for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to have a failed marriage at such an early age, doesn’t want to be walking down the aisle one day with his future child and be asked the question he wanted to ask his own parents: _dad, when you got married, did you think your marriage was going to end in divorce?_

He especially doesn’t want to answer that question with what he thinks is the truth: _yes_.

So he looks beside him where Kalel is sleeping with her head on Anthony’s shoulder, and he allows himself to look at every single detail of her. He looks at her eyebrows, fine and perfectly arranged, looks at her long eyelashes, looks at the curve of her cheek, the plumpness of her lips.

There’s nothing there but the slightest attraction.

Closing his eyes, Anthony allows himself to place his own head on top of Kalel’s.

He imagines he’s sleeping beside a certain other somebody for a few moments before he mentally curses and forces himself to think about other things, like what his and Kalel’s future together looks like, and what his plans are.

Right now, his plans are to fall in love with Kalel, he thinks. He remembers the week he spent with Kalel in Japan, remembers nights spent intertwined under crisp white sheets and days spent touring various places while holding hands, remembers making love with her just as the sun is setting outside, Kalel being bathed by golden light as he thrust into her.

The attraction is there. He just has to fan it into a flame.

His plans are ruined, however, eleven hours later, when he and Kalel are walking to baggage claim and he spots Ian, grinning at him and Kalel. He’s dressed in his signature khaki shorts and dark blue button-down shirt, and Anthony thinks, _beautiful_.

“Hey,” Kalel says, grinning at Ian before hugging him tightly for a few seconds and pulling away, “thanks for picking us up.”

Ian shakes his head. “It’s no problem.”

Anthony walks forward and hugs Ian briefly, clapping him on the shoulder before pulling back. He keeps the contact between them brief—he really doesn’t want to find out what he’s going to do if he has to be that close to Ian for more than a few seconds at a time.

After a few minutes of locating their luggage and getting their things from the conveyor belt, he, Kalel, and Ian start walking towards the exit.

“So, how was Japan?” Ian asks, genuinely curious yet seemingly detached at the same time.

Anthony, confused by how Ian seems like he wants to be anywhere _but_ here, stays silent and lets Kalel answer for the both of them. As they walk to where Ian parked his car, Anthony takes the time to examine Ian and figure out what he’s feeling in the way Anthony’s used to doing. Ian, having been Anthony’s best friend for so long, is not so hard to read now compared to way back then. Still, he finds it hard to understand just why Ian’s acting like he wants to avoid Anthony at all costs.

Later, when he and Kalel are strapped in Ian’s car and Ian’s driving down the freeway, the early morning light of Los Angeles hits Ian in a particularly flattering way, and Anthony thinks, _oh shit_.

At that point, Anthony can’t find it in himself anymore to wonder just why Ian looks like he wants to be anywhere but around his best friend.

He can’t be concerned, because at that moment, while he’s seated beside his wife in his best friend’s car, he knows he has to start avoiding Ian if he wants this marriage to last.

He holds Kalel’s hand, and Kalel smiles at him before looking back out the window, content to watch the view pass by.

Anthony finds it impossible to smile back.

-.-.-.-

Kalel takes one look at Ian’s sad, curled up form on the sofa, and she raises an eyebrow at Anthony in question.

“Sorry,” he says softly, making sure not to make much noise as he grabs Quinoa from the pantry, “he broke up with Mel last night. He said he was going to fly here. I felt bad.”

He avoids looking at Ian’s crumpled form on the sofa, knowing that he might just like what he’s going to see a little _too_ much.

“Oh,” Kalel says. She heads to the bathroom, apparently not having much else to say.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Anthony asks, walking to the bathroom and watching Kalel put toothpaste on her toothbrush.

Kalel looks at him through the mirror, a confused look on her face. “Why would it? You’re best friends who are, in some ways, weirdly co-dependent. Might as well get used to it,” she comments simply before jamming her toothbrush in her mouth.

Anthony leans against the doorway, his hand still holding onto the packet of Quinoa. “You’re seriously okay with it?”

Kalel shoots him a _look_. Anthony waits patiently as she spits into the sink and turns to look at him, her words a little muffled by the little bit of foam still in her mouth. “Anthony, on our first date, when you were introducing yourself, you mentioned Ian more times than you mentioned your _sibling_ s. Or your mom and dad, for that matter.” She turns back to the sink. “It kind of gave me an idea as to where your priorities lie, you know. It didn’t exactly surprise me then when I finally met Ian for the first time just how well you know each other, and it _definitely_ doesn’t surprise me now that this is happening.” She turns back again to look at him. “And, I promise you, it will not surprise me in the future if the two of you keep up this co-dependent thing.”

A little speechless, Anthony only says, “huh,” before turning and walking back to the kitchen. As he walks back, he hears Kalel gargle, and it reminds him of early mornings back in the house he and Ian bought together, when he would hear Ian gargling even when he was outside the house, getting their mail. It used to annoy the hell out of him, but now he finds that he actually kind of misses it.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that, right?

“Good morning.”

Anthony puts the Quinoa in a bowl. “Hey,” he greets back. He puts the bowl into the microwave before turning around and taking in the way Ian looks, rumpled and adorable in the early morning light. Ignoring the way his heart is skipping in his chest, he says, “you didn’t get enough sleep.”

Ian shrugs, before walking to the dining table and more or less collapsing into a seat. “Well, neither did you, so.”

Anthony avoids looking at Ian, knowing that seeing Ian being bathed in early morning sunlight will just fuck him up. Instead, he heads for the refrigerator and grabs a carton of soy milk. “I’m not the one who broke up with someone last night,” he reminds Ian as he heads to the pantry and gets shredded coconut and cinnamon out. “And I wasn’t the one who took a pretty spontaneous flight to Los Angeles from Sacramento.”

“I just…I don’t know.” Ian sighs. “I broke up with her, and then I wanted to see someone, but then I kind of remembered that most of my close friends live here, and driving wasn’t really an option for me, so you know, I kind of didn’t have any other choice.”

The microwave beeps, and Anthony opens it, allowing himself time to savor the aroma of the Quinoa before getting it out and closing the microwave door. “Do your parents know yet?”

Ian groans. “I don’t even want to think about that yet.”

Anthony chuckles. He knows that Ian’s parents absolutely _adored_ Melanie and that Sharon has been hinting at Ian to propose to Melanie already. To say that he feels sorry for Ian for having to have the talk with his parents is a huge understatement. “Man, I’m sorry,” he says anyway, because he doesn’t think there’s a word yet for how sorry he feels. He turns to look back at Ian. “Want some breakfast?”

“I could go for some breakfast,” Ian says, nodding. “What’s that?”

“Quinoa porridge with shredded coconut and cinnamon.” Anthony pauses. “I think I have Fruity Loops in there somewhere, though.”

“Nice,” Ian says, and he stands up from the table and walks to the kitchen, opening the cupboard above him and standing on tip-toes to grab a bowl. He looks entirely _too_ adorable, and Anthony quickly looks away.

“So, you want to talk about it, or…?”

Ian closes the cupboard and walks to the pantry, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to, no.”

“Okay,” Anthony says, and that is that.

-.-.-.-

“How’s married life?”

Anthony looks up from his laptop, startled, and smiles when he sees Olivia walking in the office. “I’ve been married for a _week_ , Olivia.”

She shrugs. “Usually by this time, you’d be able to see the domestic bliss on a person. Kalel’s practically _glowing_ ,” she says, and really, Anthony wouldn’t put it past her to tell him the truth. Over the couple of months since Olivia’s officially been a Smosh crew member, she and Kalel had become close, bonding over their love for fashion, cute animals, and travel. Nowadays, it’s not rare for Anthony to hear that Kalel’s trying out some new fancy restaurant with Olivia and Courtney, and while they’re not as close as Melanie and Mari, they’re definitely getting there.

Anthony blinks, then redirects his focus back on his laptop. “You don’t think I’m glowing?” He’s only half-joking. He kind of really wants to know if it’s obvious to anyone else that he’s not exactly happy with where his life is headed.

Olivia makes her way to her small desk, sitting down and turning on her own laptop. “Not exactly,” she says, and the truth rings in her voice.

Anthony looks up from his laptop, knowing that Olivia’s holding something back from him. “Not exactly?” he asks.

Olivia looks torn, as if she shouldn’t be saying this to him—and, to be honest, she probably shouldn’t be—but she sighs and starts, anyway. “I just…you don’t seem happy, Anthony.”

Anthony freezes. It’s one thing to talk about feelings with his best friend who’s been by his side for more than a decade now, but it’s another to talk about feelings with someone he just met this past year.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that he doesn’t think Olivia and him are friends, no, just…they’re not close enough friends to be having this conversation.

He knows she means well. He does. And, as much as he hates to admit it, she’s right. But she’s not going to be the person to talk to about this.

Seeing Anthony start to think of anything to say, Olivia shakes her head. “Hey, I know we’re not close, so you’re probably not going to want to talk to me about stuff like this, but I just kind of wanted you to know that it’s pretty obvious that you’re not as happy as you should be.” She rethinks her choice of words. “Or you _could_ be, for that matter. You’re too nice of a guy and Kalel’s too great of a catch for you two to merely settle for each other.”

It’s weird, getting relationship advice from Olivia. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and Olivia laughs.

“This is weird, huh?” she asks, rhetorical, somehow knowing just what Anthony was thinking. Maybe it’s a girl thing. Or maybe she’s just too observing for her own good. “Sorry, Anthony. I just kind of wanted you to know.”

He clears his throat. “It’s fine,” he tells her, honest. “Thanks.”

If Olivia can see that he’s not happy, then, well, does that mean Kalel can see it too?

Choosing not to ponder on that thought longer than he absolutely has to, he directs his attention back to his laptop screen. The new information he’s been supplied with—that he’s basically more or less in love with his best friend—gave him more to work with in regards to figuring out his sexuality.

He’s not totally aromantic, like he previously thought.

He’s demiromantic.

He mouths out the word and there’s a sense of rightness that rings clear through his entire being. It doesn’t feel like a label that’s too big or too small for him. It feels just right.

It should make him feel better, but it doesn’t, because it just means that yes, he _can_ love people in a romantic way, just not his wife.

He sighs and closes his laptop.

Fuck his life.

-.-.-.-

The apartment seems…ominous, somehow, like something sucked the life out of it, never mind the fact that from the doorway, he can see Pip on the rug placed below the sink.

“Kalel?” he calls out, carefully closing the door behind him. Before him, the Los Angeles skyline is alive with lights—both artificial and natural—and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the view. It never ceases to amaze him just how far he’s come, really. When he was a teenager, never did he imagine that he would someday get to live in a loft as beautiful and expensive as this with such an exquisite view of the city.

Kalel rounds the corner, and there’s a serious look on her face, the kind that Anthony has learned rarely means anything good for either him or their relationship.

“We need to talk,” she says, quiet, and the bottom drops out of Anthony’s stomach.

Anthony swallows hard. “Okay,” he says, soft, and pads over to the dining table, sitting opposite Kalel. He has the feeling that she wouldn’t appreciate him sitting beside her at this moment.

Kalel settles in her seat. Anthony watches her think of what she’s going to say, watches her worry her bottom lip with her teeth. She’s nervous, and this—whatever the hell it is that she wants to talk to him about—has clearly been on her mind for a long time. He can tell by the way she’s looking at her hands on top of the wooden table.

“Okay,” she mumbles to herself, “okay.”

Kalel looks up and Anthony finds himself the sole focus of her attention. She’s scared, he realizes as he finally sees the look in her eyes, not merely nervous like he thought she was. She also looks like she would rather be anywhere else.

What had he done wrong?

“Are you okay?” he asks. He knows the answer to his question, knows that she’s anything _but_ okay, but he asks it anyway, knowing that the question might just be able to make her start talking. With every second that passes, his heart starts hammering harder in his chest, and if Kalel doesn’t start talking soon, he’s afraid he might need to call for an ambulance.

Kalel takes a deep breath, and Anthony steels himself for what’s about to come.

“I can’t go through with the wedding.”

Anthony’s jaw drops. Before he could attempt to speak, however, Kalel quickly continues, as if afraid that if she didn’t continue talking, the words would leave her and fade into thin air.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just…I’ve been thinking about this entire thing, and I just think that I’m too young to get married. We both are.” One hand comes up to scratch at an itch on her temple, and even as the bright city lights make her look otherworldly, she looks so undeniably _tired_.

How long has she been thinking about breaking them up?

Anthony can’t talk, can’t move, can’t even fucking _breathe_. His heart is constricting in his chest, because he might not love Kalel, but he sure thought they would last, sure thought that he wouldn’t have to be alone. He closes his mouth, swallows past that painful lump in his throat, and struggles to come up with words that will be able to convince Kalel to give them another try.

He thinks about Ian, so close yet so far, thinks about how he just got out of a relationship, thinks about the attraction he’s been feeling for Ian lately, the one that he fears might grow into something he wouldn’t know how to handle. He thinks about dealing with possibly romantic feelings for his best friend without having Kalel—his constant—by his side, thinks about being given a chance to explore whatever it is he feels for Ian, and he feels afraid.

He’s not ready for this, he thinks. He’s had his heart set on marrying Kalel for years now, and no amount of attraction for Ian is going to make him change his mind, going to make him let this relationship go without fighting for it with all he’s got.

“Kalel,” he finally chokes out, “are you sure?” Though he doesn’t mean it, he says, “I love you,” because those might just be the words he needs to prove to Kalel just how badly he wants to fight for their relationship to last.

He inhales sharply and reaches for Kalel’s hands with his own, the tight grip around his heart loosening when Kalel doesn’t pull away. “Is this why we haven’t started planning for the wedding? If you’re scared, I want you to know that I am, too. We can figure this out together.”

Kalel looks like she’s nearing tears. There’s sadness in her eyes and in the way she looks like she still wants to get as far away from him as possible, but there’s also hesitance and doubt, as if Anthony’s words are helping her reconsider. She still feels something for him, he can tell, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be looking this sad, or this scared to break the two of them up.

Last resort, he thinks, and says, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The tears fall, and Kalel sniffles, nodding her head. “Okay,” she chokes out past the hiccoughs, “okay.”

Smiling in relief, Anthony finally lets go of Kalel’s hands and walks around the table to hug her tight. He closes his eyes and tucks his face against the side of Kalel’s head, allows the fading scent of Kalel’s lavender shampoo pervade his senses.

“The wedding’s back on?” he asks when he pulls away, hands coming up to wipe away the tears from Kalel’s cheeks.

Kalel swallows and smiles up at him, beautiful like the clouds parting to let the sun shine. “Wedding’s back on,” she says, and Anthony kisses her, sweet and passionate and so fucking grateful.

-.-.-.-

A month after the wedding, he and Kalel are at a PETA charity event, shaking hands with people they only vaguely know of and people who he’s pretty sure are claiming to be more important than they actually are.

There’s a charming old lady who looks like the stereotypical grandma—all curly white hair and kind brown eyes beneath spectacles, dressed in a dusky pink floral blouse and skirt ensemble that kind of reminds Anthony of Queen Elizabeth. She smiles up at them, and it makes Anthony want to hug her.

He remembers his own grandmother, remembers her accompanying him to Walmart and buying him ice cream every now and then for being a good boy, and his heart pangs with how much he misses her.

“You’re that young man from the internet!” the lady says, sounding so proud of herself for remembering just where she knows Anthony from. She looks at Kalel, and her smile widens. “And you must be the lovely lady he married.”

Kalel smiles, nodding. “I am, Mrs…?”

The lady waves her hand. “Call me Margaret,” she says, kind. Upon seeing the confusion on Anthony’s face, she explains, “my granddaughters talk about you all the time.”

“Oh,” Anthony says, understanding. For a moment, he had the mental image of this sweet old lady watching Youtube videos on her spare time, and it had been so weird, he could have outright laughed at how wrong the picture was. “It’s nice to meet you, Margaret. I’m Anthony.” He motions at Kalel. “This is my lovely wife, Kalel.”

Kalel waves at Margaret, obviously finding her as adorable as Anthony does. “Hi, Margaret.”

“It’s incredibly nice to meet you, dears,” Margaret says. “Congratulations on the wedding!” She smiles, smiles, secretive, before leaning in and saying, “my granddaughters were so upset on the day of the wedding you know.”

She doesn’t even reach Anthony’s shoulders, and so he finds her leaning in more adorable than it has any right to be. When she pulls back, he can clearly see amusement dancing in her eyes. “I believe my granddaughters set their hearts on marrying you.”

Anthony laughs. Beside him, Kalel chuckles, shaking her head in amusement.

The host tells them to sit down as the program is starting, and Anthony and Kalel start walking with Margaret to where she’s supposed to sit. “Speaking of my granddaughters—they’re also quite enamored with your best friend,” she informs them, smiling. “Where’s the other young gentleman?”

Anthony’s heart skips a beat. “Oh, he’s not vegan,” he manages to say.

“Ah.” Margaret nods, understanding. “Well, are you and your wife planning on having children soon?”

Anthony glances at Kalel and sees the fear in her eyes. He and Kalel haven’t exactly discussed it yet, but from the look in her eyes, he can tell they’re basically on the same page. “Not yet,” he says, smiling back at Kalel when she looks at him with relief clear on her face.

Margaret, walking in front of them, doesn’t see the look they exchange each other. “That’s good,” she says, approval ringing in her tone. “I know mothers want their kids to immediately work on starting a family after the wedding, but I say wait. Let the newlyweds settle into domestic bliss before working on producing little rascals, am I right?”

Anthony thinks of having children with Kalel, and his heart pangs painfully.

He’s not ready for that, he thinks.

Glancing at Kalel, he sees that she more or less feels the same.

-.-.-.-

“I’m thinking of moving here.”

Anthony looks away from the television screen for a few seconds before directing his focus back on the Mario Kart match they’re having. “What, in my apartment? I don’t think Kalel’s going to be fine with that.”

He can practically _hear_ Ian rolling his eyes. “I mean here, Los Angeles, not here, your apartment, dick,” he says, the insult not even hitting Anthony that hard with the way Ian says it lightly.

Anthony thinks about the implications of Ian moving. He’s going to be nearer Anthony, if he chooses to move.

Anthony’s going to have to control himself around Ian more.

“Oh?” he asks, voice sounding a little strangled. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Ian give him a weird look, but he ignores it in favor of focusing on the game.

Later, when he’s won, he looks at Ian and says, “you said _thinking_. So it’s not final yet?”

Ian shrugs. “Actually, it kind of is. I put my name down for a house near here. Mel and I have decided that I’m going to get the furniture and Daisy, because she’s planning on moving to New York, and there really isn’t enough space where she’s going to live for a dog, much less furniture.”

“I see,” he says.

He doesn’t.

-.-.-.-

He makes it to three months after the wedding before he finally snaps and goes to Ian’s house in the middle of the night, feeling tired and a little betrayed. He might have wanted to avoid Ian, but apparently Ian wants to avoid him _more_ , because even though they work together and basically have the same group of friends, Anthony can count on his fingers how many times they talked about something _not_ work-related since Anthony arrived from Japan.

He rings the doorbell once, twice, thrice, impatient. He feels a small thrill when he hears Daisy barking from inside the house. Ian can’t avoid him now.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez,” he hears, and then the door swings open, revealing Ian in a pair of loose dark green striped pajamas and a faded Smosh shirt. “Oh.”

Anthony makes his way into the house and inhales deeply, waiting for Ian to close the door and turn around before saying, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

It’s not a question. It’s fact, a painful one.

Ian sighs, raising a hand to card fingers through his disheveled hair. “Yeah,” he says, and Anthony feels annoyance become outright anger at the fact that Ian didn’t even try to say otherwise, didn’t even apologize when he knows he’s been doing something wrong.

Anthony’s jaw tightens. “You got any explanation for that?”

Ian looks so tired. There are bags under his eyes, and he opens his mouth, about to explain, possibly even about to try and get himself out of this mess, but the he closes it again and walks up the stairs.

Anthony follows him. There’s nothing else he can do, after all.

Ian sits on his couch, slow and careful. Anthony follows suit, careful to maintain space between him and Ian. His anger is still bubbling beneath the surface of his skin, his frustration still making his head unsteady and his thoughts dangerous, but he’s careful to be absolutely still, wanting at least some explanation as to why Ian’s been avoiding him.

He wants to know if he’s done something wrong.

Finally, Ian looks up and meets his eyes, and Anthony feels his heart ache in his chest, feels bile rise to his throat when he sees Ian’s hands curl into fists.

Ian feels powerless, he thinks as he watches his hands uncurl and curl up once more.

“Remember when you asked me why I didn’t ask Melanie to marry me?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know that of course Anthony does.

Still, Anthony says, “yes.”

Ian inhales deeply, then releases his breath slowly, carefully. “I didn’t ask her to marry me, because I didn’t want to.”

Anthony shakes his head. “That’s obvious,” he says. “What I want to know is _why_ you didn’t want to. You and Mel had been together for such a long ti—”

“I was in love with you,” Ian interrupts, and Anthony’s mouth closes with a click. He laughs, self-pitying, and says, “still am, actually.”

Anthony doesn’t know what to say. He can’t quite hear anything else, Ian’s words continuing to ring in his ears long after he’s finished saying them. There’s a light fluttery feeling in his chest, something he wants so badly to acknowledge because _fuck_ , Ian feels the same way about him as he does Ian, but he tries to ignore it anyway, because he’s married, he has an actual, honest-to-God _wife_ who’s in their apartment right now, waiting for him to come home, and it’s not as if there’s anything he can do.

There are no words. How can he possibly explain just what he’s feeling? How can he possibly tell Ian that he’s been the cause behind Anthony’s second thoughts about his marriage with Kalel? How can he possibly let him down gently and tell him that even though Anthony loves him—and oh, what a powerful fucking word, _love_ —he’s not going to do anything about it because he doesn’t want a failed marriage?

Ian’s leg starts jiggling, and Anthony knows this must be nerve-wracking for him. “That night when I broke up with Mel—I told her I wanted to move to Los Angeles, because the constant flying back and forth for work was too hard. I thought she would have wanted to move with me, but apparently not.” He sighs. “She asked me if I was ever planning on proposing. I had to tell her the truth.”

“I, uh—” Anthony tries to say, but Ian beats him to it, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He closes his eyes, looking extremely frustrated with himself, and he smiles, sad and soft and everything Anthony doesn’t want to see. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you this.”

Anthony takes a deep breath. Ian deserves to know, he thinks, and he blurts out, “I love you too.”

Ian looks at him, his eyes wide and surprised. “What?”

It feels so ridiculously good to finally say the words out loud and _mean_ them, so Anthony repeats himself. “I love you too. I think I have been since before the wedding, but I’m not exactly sure.” His voice becomes quieter. “But I’m married now, Ian.”

Ian exhales. “I understand,” he says, soft, and Anthony’s heart hurts. Just thinking about what could have been if he had just let Kalel walk away from their relationship about a year ago makes his heart beat painfully, like it’s pumping mud instead of blood.

Anthony stands up. “I should go.”

The air around them is deathly still. Even Daisy, curled up on the end of the couch, is quiet and unmoving, silent as she watches the two of them with curiosity.

“Yeah, you should,” Ian agrees.

He goes. He takes one last glance at Ian’s form on the sofa, looking so defeated with his eyes closed and his head bowed down, and he turns, walking down the stairs with light steps.

He locks the door on his way out.

-.-.-.-

In between important meetings and shooting videos, he helps Kalel plan the wedding. Not really knowing anything about decoration and fancy shit like this, he lets Kalel take the reins, following her lead and going where she wants him to go.

Right now, he’s removing his sunglasses as he and Ian walk to the jewelry store. There’s a pair of white gold rings Kalel had wanted him to check out, and though she had wanted to check them out with him, she had opted out of it, because it apparently had a scheduling conflict with one of her fittings for the bridal gown.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” a lady standing just inside the store greets, smiling as she walks toward them. “I’m Ella, and I’m happy to help you.”

The store is…fancy. There’s what looks like a crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the ceiling, and the large white tiles beneath his feet are so spotless, it actually makes him feel self-conscious when he takes another step towards one of the glass cases containing various rings. “Oh yeah, hi,” he greets, trying not to act as out of place as he feels, “I’m Anthony. I’m here to check out some rings?”

“Wedding rings or engagement rings?”

“Wedding,” he says, placing his folded sunglasses on the collar of his shirt.

Ella beams. “Oh, congratulations to both of you!” she says as she walks towards the glass case furthest from the doors. “You must have been overjoyed when same-sex marriage became legal nationwide. But then again, same-sex marriage has been legal here in California for _years_ now, so…”

Ian looks at Anthony with a look that just says, “ _dude_ , _can you believe that she thinks we’re a couple_?” He looks ready to outright laugh.

Anthony feels something strange take a hold of him when he corrects her. “Oh, we’re not getting married. He’s my best man.”

It feels a little too much like disappointment.

He tries not to think about it too much.

-.-.-.-

Everything is awkward with Ian, after that.

He can’t quite make himself meet Ian’s eyes anymore, or talk to him in private, just the two of them. Half of him is afraid of having to face the fact that they’re not as close now as before, and the other half of him is afraid of what he might do if he was left alone with Ian in private, now that he knows they basically feel the same way.

It comes to the point where even the fans start to notice. His Twitter account start being barraged by fans who are wondering if the wedding changed his relationship with Ian, and the Youtube comments on both Smosh videos and Watch Us Live and Stuff videos ask him the same question, just in different wording.

He wants to say that at least he and Ian are still professional, but he’s come to doubt even that. Their sense of professionalism has always sort of hinged to their interactions with each other as best friends, and now that everything is awkward between the two of them, professionalism has started to mean being polite and distant, and nothing more than that.

He’s determined to make things right, though. He might not be able to do anything with how Ian feels for him or with how he feels for Ian, for that matter, but he _can_ do something regarding how they interact with each other. He’s still fully committed to making his marriage work with Kalel, yes, but he would rather not have his friendship with Ian die in the process.

So, during one of Kalel’s girls’ night out with Olivia and Courtney, he invites Ian to his apartment just to hang out. Ian accepts, thankfully, and he shows up at the door with a six-pack of beer and vegan pizza.

“Hey, Ian,” he greets, closing the door once Ian’s inside the apartment. It feels weird, having to greet Ian and direct him to the living room where he’s set up his Wii U, because back then, Ian would just immediately head there, at home in Anthony’s apartment in the way that he’s just immediately at home in Anthony’s _anything_ , really. Now, he looks like he’s going to bolt the moment Anthony gives him a reason to, and Anthony just feels so incredibly _tired_.

Here, with Ian settling into the couch, the television’s bright light illuminating him in varying hues of blue, Ian looks anything _but_ comfortable. He’s tense, and Anthony just feels so damn tired, so damn exhausted, that he just wants to lean forward and hug him, hold him until he can do nothing but relax in Anthony’s presence.

He doesn’t do that, though. There are lines now, boundaries they can’t cross that are so much clearer now that they both know they feel the same way about each other.

Still, despite the awkwardness between them at first, it gradually melts away as they play round after round of Smash Bros. It’s not hard for them to settle back into their old rhythm, friendly insults flying as they smash buttons and eat vegan pizza.

But then the door opens, and Kalel comes inside, and Anthony sees Ian become as still as a statue in under a second.

He sighs internally. He was _so_ close to making things between them better.

Kalel doesn’t notice Ian’s awkwardness though, because she grins at him and waves before heading to their bedroom to stash the clothes she just bought.

He shouldn’t be annoyed at her, shouldn’t feel so damn frustrated at the fact that she entered the apartment at just the time he thought he would be able to explain to Ian that just because he’s married, it doesn’t mean that their friendship should suffer and that he’s willing to work on their friendship as hard as he’s willing to work on his marriage, maybe even harder, because this is her apartment too, the place she shares with _him_ , her husband.

He hears the bathroom door close, and Ian apparently hears it too, because he shakes his head and slowly stands up. “I should probably go,” he says, looking at the door every now and then with what looks like longing in his eyes.

Anthony doesn’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to leave their friendship like this. “No, you can stay. Kalel won’t mind.”

Ian grabs his phone from the coffee table. “I would,” he says simply. “Look, Anthony, I appreciate what you’re doing, really, it’s just.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I need more time. I’m sorry.”

He leaves.

The sound of the door closing, even as gentle as it is, continues to echo in Anthony’s head like a death knell long after Ian is gone.

-.-.-.-

“How many fittings does she have to attend?”

Anthony shrugs. “I really don’t know, and honestly, I don’t want to know either.” He tries to remain still as the tailor measures the length of his legs with a yellow measuring tape. He succeeds, mostly, but then an itch develops on his lower back, and he moves, scratching the itch with one hand.

The tailor gives him a dirty look. He gives him an apologetic smile in return.

“What am I even supposed to be doing here?” Ian asks, already restless.

Anthony looks at Ian through the reflection on the mirror. “You’re here for moral support.”

“Moral support, my ass,” Ian mutters, shaking his head as he grabs his phone from his pocket. “You just want me to suffer with you.”

Anthony hums, content. “That, too.”

“Asshole.”

-.-.-.-

When he was a kid, he had always gone to his mother for advice with girls. Elementary school was particularly hard to navigate, and it had been hard for him to deal with crushes. He had sat at this very table and talked to his mom about possibly telling a certain girl that he liked her, and she had always smiled, kind, and encouraged him.

During high school, he stopped talking to her about girls and relationships. It wasn’t a cool thing to do, after all—who went to their mothers for relationship advice?

Now, however, he’s sitting at the very same table and drinking orange juice as his mom sits opposite him and raises her eyebrows in question. Anthony hadn’t bothered telling her that he was going to fly to Sacramento today from Los Angeles, and he can tell that his mom has a lot of questions.

“Mom, I,” he starts to say, then shakes his head and sighs. “I want to ask you something.”

At his mom’s nod, he asks, hesitant, “when you were getting married to dad, did you think your marriage was going to end in divorce?”

His mom’s eyebrows rise, surprise evident on her face. Whatever she expected him to ask her, this isn’t it. She quickly regains control of her face, though, and she thinks about his question, taking him seriously.

“I didn’t,” she finally admits after a few moments. “At that moment, I was just so incredibly happy to be getting married, you know? My parents didn’t like the idea of me being a single parent. Getting married meant getting out of the spotlight and not being chastised so much.”

She looks over at him, and her eyes soften. It must be that maternal instinct, or she might just really know him that well, because her next words are, “if you’re not happy, do something about it.”

Anthony blinks, surprised. He then offers her a sad smile. “I can’t exactly do anything about it, mom.”

His mom gives him a knowing look, one eyebrow raised in judgment. “Divorce is an option, Anthony,” she says, her tone gently chastising.

Despite the fact that what they’re talking about is an adult topic, he feels like such a kid again, feels like he’s six and sheepishly explaining just how he broke grandma’s beloved vase.

Anthony shakes his head. “It really isn’t, mom.”

“Why not?” she asks, putting her hands on the table and entwining them. “What is it? You don’t want a failed marriage, is that it?”

Slowly, Anthony nods.

His mom rolls her eyes, and he just knows she is absolutely done with him. “Your happiness is much more important than having a failed marriage on your record, okay? Think about it this way: you’re merely exchanging an unhappy marriage for a happy one.”

“Ian and I aren’t getting married.” _Yet_ , he doesn’t say.

His mom chuckles, shaking her head in amusement. “So it _is_ Ian.”

Anthony, not really having the words to explain to her why it _is_ Ian, merely shrugs.

Leezah looks at him for a few moments, before saying, “in the end, does it really matter, Anthony? Does it really matter if you’ve gotten divorced before or not?” She looks at him, earnest and caring, and it reminds him of those times when his mom would put bandages on his scraped knees. “Anthony, Ian’s not going to wait for you. He’s going to move on with his life. He’s going to meet someone else, and he’s going to get married, and you’re going to have to stand as his best man and watch him say ‘I do’ to someone else. And you’re going to live the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you just took the chance years ago.” She sighs. “I care too much about you to let that happen, Anthony.”

Anthony tries to imagine it, tries to imagine standing as Ian’s best man at his wedding the way Ian stood at his, tries to imagine being supportive and still as he hears Ian recite his vows to someone else the way Ian was during his own wedding.

It makes his heart ache, makes it burn like a forest fire until the flames are licking every inch of him.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

-.-.-.-

Anthony looks at the piece of cake on the small white plate before him and furrows his eyebrows. “Uhm.”

Beside him, Kalel smothers a laugh. She pushes her own slice of cake away. “We’ll just share,” she says, knowing that the slice of cake is too big for Anthony to finish.

On Anthony’s other side, Ian is tucking into his own slice of cake, unbothered by how huge the slice is. “This is great,” he comments as he wipes coconut buttercream from the corners of his lips.

“Thank you,” the baker, Miel, says, beaming as she accepts the compliment. “I have other cake flavors, too, if you guys think this isn’t the cake for you.”

Kalel takes one bite of the cake and moans in delight, her eyes closing as she savors the dessert. “Oh my God,” she finally groans out.

Anthony takes a bite of the cake and is pleasantly surprised when the different flavors mix in his mouth exquisitely. The cake isn’t too sweet, either.

He, Kalel, and Ian are in Bramble Bakeshop, taste-testing cakes because there are only a few months before the wedding. This is probably the only responsibility Ian more or less volunteered for, knowing that he will get to eat cake for free.

Anthony doesn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, this will also probably be the only responsibility he would take initiative to be a part of.

“It’s a shame Hannah can’t be here,” Kalel says before taking another bite of the cake. She takes her time to chew. “I told her to fly from Missouri, but apparently she couldn’t take a day off work this week or something.”

Anthony looks at his watch and his eyes widen in surprise. He and Ian are going to be late to that session with Madame Tussaud’s if they don’t go now.

Sighing at the fact that he won’t get to enjoy more cake, he taps his watch. “Hey Ian, we have to go.”

Ian looks at his own watch and swallows his piece of cake quickly when he sees the time. “Oh shit, yeah we do.”

Anthony stands up from the seat, offering Miel an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry we can’t stay long. My girlfriend’s staying here, though.” To Kalel, he asks, “you’ll be fine, right?”

“Of course,” Kalel says. “You like this cake, right? Because I’ll just be ironing out details with Miel if you do.”

He nods. “I do.” He smiles at them both before heading out the store.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Miel give Ian her business card.

His heart thuds, painful.

He ignores it.

-.-.-.-

This feels like déjà vu.

He’s sitting across Kalel at their dining table once more. There’s a lump in his throat, and he’s finding it hard to talk, he really does, but he needs to, so he says, “I’m sorry.”

Kalel looks worried. She gnawing at her bottom lip, and she looks closed off, protective of herself as she crosses her arms on her chest. “Sorry for what?”

“I, uh.”

How is he even supposed to tell Kalel that, not even half a year after their wedding, he wants a divorce? How is he even supposed to tell her that he’s in love with someone else? That he’s not happy with her?

He feels like the lowest kind of creature. Kalel deserves better than him.

Anthony takes a deep breath, then finally says, “I want to file for divorce.”

Kalel freezes. It’s a few moments before she gathers her bearings and asks, her voice small, “what?”

Anthony bites his lip, hard. He imagines he can taste blood when he releases his lip and says, “I’m sorry.”

Apologies aren’t going to do anything. They aren’t going to magically make Kalel feel better, aren’t going to make him feel less like a douchebag. There aren’t other words, though, so he settles for apologies he truly does mean but won’t, in the grand scheme of things, do anything to make this situation easier or better for them.

Mogwai is sleeping on Pip’s bed, Buki is on their bed, and Pip is on the seat beside Anthony, curled up and on his way to sleep. Anthony monitors all of them for lack of having anything else to look at—he can’t look at Kalel now, when she’s nearing tears, when this scene feels a little too much like it has happened before, only then it was Kalel who was breaking up with him and not vice versa.

He wonders if Kalel will fight for them now the way he did for them before.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if she does.

Kalel grits her teeth. “Fuck you,” she spits out, poison lacing her voice, and she abruptly stands up and walks out, the door slamming behind her.

Feeling like a weight has been taken off him, Anthony sighs and lets his head drop to his hands.

-.-.-.-

The movie is finally having its premiere, and Anthony cannot be prouder.

He’s walking down the red carpet with Kalel and Ian, posing for the cameras and stopping every now and then for interviews, and he feels content.

He thinks he can be happy for the rest of his life if he can just have _this_ , the company of the two people he cares about the most in the world.

-.-.-.-

It’s another day.

Kalel isn’t beside him.

She’s been staying at Joey’s house lately, going to the apartment to visit the cats and grab some more stuff when she knows Anthony’s at work. Anthony knows, because he always makes time to watch her play with their cats on his phone’s connection to the security cameras both of them have decided on putting in the apartment a long time ago.

He misses her the way a kid misses a teddy bear. She was familiar, someone who made him feel comfortable and more or less content. Having her beside him was having the knowledge that he’s secure in his future, that he’s going to be spending the rest of his life with someone he actually cares about.

Sometimes, he actually wonders if he shouldn’t have stopped trying to make things work between them. It’s during those times when he brings out his phone and lets his finger hover over Kalel’s number, during those times when he wants so very badly to call her and tell her that he made a mistake and would she please just come home?

But then he steps into the office and sees Ian, still so beautiful even while being so distant, and he’s reminded of why he’s doing this. It’s for his own happiness, he thinks, and for Kalel’s, too. Somewhere down the road, Kalel would come to realize that Anthony’s not really happy with her as she thought, and really, it’s just better for everyone if Anthony and Kalel ended their marriage sooner rather than later.

Kalel makes him feel content. Ian makes him actively _want_ things. He can’t continue fighting for something that’s just okay when he can have something better.

Later in the day, he’s about to film a special Game Bang episode with the rest of the crew when a knock sounds on the door and Sabrina, David’s wife, appears with an excited smile on her face. Beside him, David grins and quickly gets off the seat, approaching his wife with nothing short of pure, unadulterated happiness on his face.

He, along with the rest of the crew, watches as David presses a kiss to Sabrina’s cheek, and he realizes that he wants that. He truly, truly does. And he’s not going to have that with Kalel.

That, more than anything, strengthens his resolve to give up on trying to make something that’s not supposed to work _do_.

-.-.-.-

Blinding lights are cutting across the dance floor, neon orange and pink strobe lights making its way across the room as Anthony takes another drink of his beer. From where he’s seated at the bar, he sees Ryan and Joven dancing mindlessly to the beat in one corner and Flitz, Sohinki, Shayne, and Keith having some sort of impromptu showdown. Just a few feet from him, Ian and Ras are somehow having a conversation.

He shouldn’t be feeling this lonely on his bachelor’s party, but he is. It’s kind of fucked up—this isn’t what the movies promised him bachelor parties are.

“You okay?” David asks, sitting beside him and grabbing a bottle of beer.

Anthony shrugs. “I think.”

David bumps his shoulder against Anthony’s. “Cheer up. You’re getting married soon.”

Anthony swallows his beer. He smiles, and he thinks it probably looks strained, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because David’s attention is quickly caught by the impromptu showdown happening on the dance floor.

Anthony takes another gulp of his beer.

He’s not excited for this wedding.

Something’s wrong.

-.-.-.-

He’s not ready for this.

It’s morning, and he’s only dressed in loose-fitting boxers, and Kalel is standing in front of him, a sad smile on her face and hesitance present in her eyes. He feels severely underdressed—she’s in a formal looking white blouse and a pair of skinny jeans—but he lets her in, anyway.

She’s still his wife, after all. She deserves to at least feel a little bit at home in their apartment.

Silently, he walks to the refrigerator and grabs two bottles of water. He places one in front of Kalel and makes his way to the seat opposite hers, sitting down with a small sigh.

It’s been a full month since he last saw her. Fans of WULAS had been concerned by the sudden lack of new videos, and he had started to avoid Twitter because of the sheer amount of questions the fans had for him.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she says so quietly that Anthony has to strain to hear her over the distant sounds of Los Angeles traffic. “I agree with you.”

Anthony looks up from his hands. “You do?” he asks, not quite believing what he just heard.

Kalel nods. “Yeah, I do.” She sighs, then looks around their apartment. “I told you before that I was having doubts. You talking about getting a divorce sort of made me realize that I still have doubts.” She gets out a folder from her handbag and slides it across the table to him. “We didn’t buy much as a couple, so dividing properties shouldn’t be a problem.”

Anthony looks at the divorce papers. This is really happening.

“Of course,” he manages to get out.

Kalel gives him a pen. It’s a simple black Bic pen he knows she doesn’t own. She probably got it from Joey. “All I really want are the cats,” Kalel says. “You can have the apartment.”

Anthony shakes his head. “I’m not going to stay here without you,” he says, and it’s the truth.

Gingerly, he takes the pen from Kalel’s hand and quickly skims over what’s written on the papers. There’s a property settlement agreement that he has to sign, as well as a joint petition for divorce.

He signs over the documents, his hand steady.

After, when he’s given the papers back to Kalel, he says, “we had a good run together, didn’t we?”

Kalel gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, we did,” she agrees. She stands up slowly, and Anthony watches as she removes her wedding ring and engagement ring from her finger, putting them on the table. The diamond glints as the bright morning sunlight hits it.

Anthony, unable to just sit there, stands up and heads to where Kalel is, hugging her tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes as he allows himself to have this moment with Kalel one last time.

“I’m sorry, too.”

-.-.-.-

It’s dark.

Slowly, Anthony makes his way to Ian’s door. He rings the doorbell once.

The door opens, and there Ian is, gorgeous even in just a pair of blue boxers and a dark blue robe. The light from inside his house makes him look like a little bit like an angel about to pull some poor soul out of the darkness and into warmth and light, and Anthony feels just a little giddy thinking about coming in and finally, _finally_ having the chance to do what he’s always wanted to do.

“Anthony?” Ian asks, confused. It’s been seven months since he and Kalel officially filed their petition for divorce, and it’s been six months since he and Kalel officially ended Watch Us Live and Stuff, but there’s still a hint of uncertainty there, present between the two of them.

Anthony wants so badly to get rid of it.

“The divorce got finalized,” he breathes out.

Ian releases his breath slowly. “Really?”

“Yes,” Anthony says, and there’s a million other things he wants to tell Ian, things like how he did this so he can give the two of them a chance, things like how he wants to be able to figure out how to make things work with Ian, things like how he wants to be happy with him in the way he’s been denying himself for more than a year.

He doesn’t say any of those, though. Instead, he walks forward and fists Ian’s shirt, leaning into him and kissing him the way he’s only dreamt of doing before, his tongue chasing the sugary sweetness of Ian’s mouth.

After what seems like a too short amount of time, he pulls away. He can explain to Ian right now just why he’s here. He can tell him just what was going through Anthony’s mind the entire time he was waiting for the divorce to be finalized. Hell, he can tell him about the doubts Anthony has been having about him and Kalel even way before the wedding.

He doesn’t though, because those, in the face of this one sentence he wants to tell Ian, seem inconsequential. Those can wait.

This can’t.

“I love you,” he says. It’s different from before, when he was still married to Kalel and confessing that he felt something more than friendship for Ian, because this seems _purer_ , somehow. This time, it’s just him and Ian in the picture, and the thought of it makes him feel so unbelievably lighter that he says the words again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

This time, he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Smosh. I do not make money from this. I also do not own Paramore’s “The Only Exception” from which the title was taken.


End file.
